A New Player: Year Six: Eye of the Storm
by Faykan
Summary: Suddenly thrust into a conflict they never expected, Harry and friends must prepare the waning Wizarding World for the fight of their lives. As Darkness encroaches from all sides, their quest become apparent, and the course of the world is set before them.
1. Prologue

**And so begins the sixth installment of the ANP story arc. Many thanks to all those who reviewed and enjoyed Year 5. Please Enjoy, and also keep up the flow of support via your excellent comments and words of encouragement as we launch into:**

**A New Player, Year 6**

**Eye of the Storm**

**Prologue**

**Unspeakable Knowledge**

Harry stared at the red robed man as he lead him, Draco and Faykan down through the now packed and very busy tower of Orthanc. Broderick Bode would point out select individuals as they passed, and several would bow or offer their greetings to Faykan. Harry had heard of the missing Unspeakable, and remembered the visit to St. Mungo's when he had actually seen the man vividly, but it still didn't explain why he was here, or what was going on to have all these people at Faykan home.

It was Draco that finally voiced the obvious question that hung between him and Harry. "Mr. Bode… uh… how did you get here?"

It was Faykan who answered, "Oh, that was my doing," he said, stopping and turning to the two boys, "When we visited Mr. Bode last year in St. Mungo's, I gave him a portkey to Orthanc that would activate if he was in any danger."

"It activated as the plant that someone sent me for Christmas attempted to strangle me, I think it might have been a cutting of Devil's Snare…" Mr. Bode added.

"But, why did you want to save Mr. Bode specifically Faykan?" Harry asked.

"Simple reason Mr. Potter," Bode responded, "I am Lord Alatar's contact between himself and the Department of Mysteries."

Harry's heart felt a pang at the mention of the place where he had lost his godfather, but Draco picked up the line of the conversation. "The Department of Mysteries?" he asked in confusion, "Why would they be interested in Faykan?"

Mr. Bode started to chuckle, "You're asking why the independent section of the Ministry that investigates the secrets of our magical heritage would be interested in an eight thousand year old Istari? I would think that it would be obvious, the sheer knowledge we could recover from the past would bring magical Britain into a new golden age."

"And… in the meanwhile," Faykan interrupted, "They keep me informed with the Ministry's inner workings and research projects. Occasionally I offer my advice as to what would most help the magical community, and they assist me when I need the Ministry to be... oblivious, to what I'm up to."

Harry and Draco shared a grin at those words. There was probably a lot that Faykan wouldn't want the Ministry to get wind of.

"My lord," Bode said, turning back to Faykan, "The King of Rohan wishes to speak with you, and there are several reports that need your attention as well…"

Faykan brushed him off, "Yes, yes, I'll get to it in due time, but first I need to get my guests settled, and pick up some things from Gringotts. After that, I will gladly meet with the Lords of the Mark."

Mr. Bode bowed respectfully, and walked away, turning into the staircase at the end of the hall and making his way downward.

"I'll only be gone a few hours, and then we can organize what we will do over the summer," Faykan said before disaparating on the spot with a loud _crack_. Harry and Draco looked at each other; confusion etched on their faces from the abrupt departure of their friend, then shrugged and headed for the guest chambers that lay midway up the tower.


	2. Chapter 1

**Lots of fun, this chapter was to write. Hard to believe were so far along now, posting book 6! just wow, I had never even dreamed about how well this series would be taken when I started so long ago. I mean read this, I'm reminiscing... anyway, Read and Review please!**

**Chapter One**

**Since the Elder Days**

Draco awoke in the middle of the night, his father's voice still ringing in his ears, "_I have no son_." Tears welled in his eyes, the pain of the betrayal stabbing anew in his chest. His own pain had been pushed aside in light of Sirius Black's death, and Harry had taken precedence for comfort from all their friends, but now during the summer, the remembrance that he was an outcast from his own family, without name or title, returned.

Silently, Draco slid out of the large four-poster bed and crept into the stone corridor. The starry sky shone down the corridor from the open balcony at the near end, letting a warm breeze flow through the passages of Orthanc. Faykan and Harry's rooms were each across the hall from Draco's, but the blond boy didn't feel like disturbing his friends with his personal problems at this time. He pondered a moment, before setting off, reaching the spiral stairs of the tower and ascending, climbing to the very pinnacle of Orthanc.

Draco stood there, at the highest point for miles around, gazing across Fanghorn toward the west, thinking of his mother, when he heard the soft cracking sound of someone apparating behind him. He turned to find that Faykan had at last returned.

"Good evening Draco." Faykan said calmly, as he approached, shifting several bundles in his arms.

"Faykan." Draco said coolly, turning back to the scenery, hoping that the blue eyed boy hadn't noticed the fresh batch of tears threatening to spill down his face.

Unfortunately, he must have, as Faykan moved to stand next to Draco, watching him as Draco tried to control his raging emotions. "Draco?" he asked.

It felt as though a damn had burst in Draco's chest. Tears rolled down his face as he started to softly sob. "Why?" Draco managed to say between heaving for oxygen, "All I ever wished was for him to love me… why wouldn't he… I wish none of this happened…"

Arms encircled Draco as his pent up emotion seeped out, and Faykan rocked him gently, rubbing his back in a soothing manner, "So do all who live to see such times Draco. But it is not for them to decide." Faykan released him, turning Draco to look directly into his eyes. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. Always remember, there are other forces at work in this world, besides the will of evil."

Together they watched the distant skies for a while longer, before Faykan spoke again, "Draco, do you know the purpose of the Istari, while they walk upon the face of _Arda_?"

Draco did not, so he shook his head.

Faykan smiled, more to himself than Draco, and continued, "They were sent to guide the children of _Ilúvatar_ along the road to their own destiny. Not lead, mind, but guide. Now that the elder children, the elves, have all returned into the west, men must govern themselves."

He paused, watching a shooting star in the distance, "War is coming Draco and I cannot stand as the only leader of the light…"

"But," Draco said, "If not you, then who? Dumbledore?"

"No," Faykan replied, "Dumbledore is not of whom I speak. The ones to lead the strength of men must rise from among the youngest of them, from a forgotten line that shall return from the ashes of death."

Faykan turned to face Draco, his eyes sparkling in the starlight from above, "Draco, everything happens for a purpose, and you are no exception."

Realization dawned in Draco's eyes, "Me?" he stuttered, "Your talking about… me?"

"Yes, Draco, you, the next born in line to inherit the house of Black by blood, the last of that house that can possible be a leader of the races of men."

"No, I cant be," Draco said panicking slightly, "Why would men choose to listen to me?"

"They will listen to the King of Gondor!" Faykan declared, withdrawing a long package from beneath his robes, and offering it toward Draco. The starlight reflected off the silvery hilt of a sword.

"Behold, _Andúril_, the Flame of the West, forged from the shards of _Narsil_! Behold the sword of kings! The man who can wield the power of this sword can call upon all the inhabitants of _Arda_ to fight under his banner, and unite once more the world of men."

Draco stared, wide eyed at the beautifully crafted sword in its scabbard, the lights of the heavens above glowing silver-white upon the weapon. He longed to touch it, to hold it in his hands, but at the same time, he was afraid.

"Draco," Faykan reassured, "you must put aside the frightened boy of your youth; it is time for you to become who you were born to be!"

Confidence surging through him, Draco reached forward, drawing the sword sharply from its runed scabbard. It was light, far lighter than he imagined.

"The servants of Voldemort will learn to fear the sword of _Elendil_." Faykan said, pulling forth a silver ring, shaped like entwined serpents, with emerald eyes and a golden crown of flowers. Taking Draco's free hand, Faykan placed the ring upon his middle finger. The ring fit Draco perfectly. Smiling widely, Faykan clapped Draco's shoulders and declared "By the Ring of _Barahir_ and the sword _Andúril_, you are of the house of _Elessar_, heir of _Isildur_, son of _Elendil_. You are Draco Malfoy no longer. I rename you, _Sgiathatch Telcontar_, heir of kings."

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Severus landed heavily in front of the massive spire of Orthanc, Albus at his side, still clasping the tiny portkey that had brought them. The aged Headmaster had received the small token with a summons by Faykan to attend a gathering that the ancient Istari was conducting to plan the Light's side of the war against Voldemort. The look of shock and awe on the old man's face was worth Severus' acceptance to attend as well, aside from being summoned himself to tell the council of the Dark Lord's plans as far as he knew of them.

Faykan greeted the two wizards, warmly in Severus' case and neutrally in Albus', as they entered the main chambers of Orthanc. Seated and standing around the large circular room were a multitude of people and creatures, including several goblins in strange hide clothing, a single centaur, and a few armor-clad dwarves. Seated on either side of Faykan's throne-like chair, looking puzzled at their inclusion in such a group of strangers, were Harry and Draco, who were wearing expensive looking dress robes and circlets of silver threaded through their now rather long and braided hair, making them both appear like elven princes that Severus once saw in a old muggle storybook. Severus took the opportunity to seat himself next to his godson, and comfortingly put a hand on his shoulder, gauging the young mans countenance. Draco returned a small smile, reassuring Severus that he was healing, if slowly, from the ordeals of the previous year.

The room settled and the several standing people and beings moved to sit as Faykan gentle tapped his staff upon the stone floor, calling the council to order. Albus sat next to Severus, and glanced around at the other people and creatures that stood or sat in a perfect circle spanning the entire circumference of the room. Severus recognized Blaise Zabini and his illustrious mother in the circle, clad in black and gold armor with strange Middle Eastern designs, and even stranger, the recently declared deceased Broderick Bode, sitting next to Harry on Faykan's far side.

Faykan rose when the last member, a large black centaur took his place in the circle, and raising one arm in greeting began, "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Voldemort. The world stands upon the brink of destruction; none can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race, each nation is bound to this fate that threatens all we hold dear."

The young voice of Faykan pierced the silence of the room like a knife, commanding each member of the circle's complete attention. "Long has it been since the White Council has been called upon to answer the threat of a single being, but long has it also been since a being of such power has existed in _Arda_, not since before the sailing of the elves and the beginning of the Ages of Men. We must now decide what is to be done concerning this Dark Lord, what can be done to protect this world in which we all live…"

Faykan's eyes roamed the room, meeting each of the other beings and holding their gaze before moving on. Finally, Faykan turned to Severus, "The council will recognize Severus Snape, the eyes and ears of the forces of the Light within Voldemort's own ranks. Severus, please inform the council as to what the Dark Lord's current motives are."

Faykan sat, opening the floor for Severus, who in turn stood. All eyes were upon him, and each being scrutinized him as Severus cleared his throat. "The Dark Lord seeks to tighten the grip his loyal Death Eaters have managed to secure on the wizarding world in his absence. Due to the desertion of the dementors, he will quickly free those in Azkaban, while his army of dark creatures will wreak havoc across the countryside of Great Britain. His main focus, for the time being, remains the same, the deaths of Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and Faykan Undol…"

"Of course this is what a servant of the Dark Lord would want us to think," interrupted one of the goblins, rising to stand upon his chair and pointing a long finger at Severus. "What better to tell us, his potential enemies, than that he is doing nothing of significant difference?"

"Peace Gornuk," Faykan said calmly, "I trust Severus Snape with my life; he is no more a Death Eater than you or I."

The goblin scowled at Faykan, but retook his seat without further argument. Severus, finished with his report, also sat down, and watched in silence as Faykan conducted the remainder of the meeting.

They heard reports from several others, including a German squib named Ceolwulf, who Faykan named as Lord of the Mark and King of the exiled nation of Rohan, whose land was overrun by orcs the previous year as the vile creatures marched toward Britain. He spoke briefly about the number of refugees, wizard, muggle and squib alike, that had escaped the holocaust of these wizarding communities, who had escaped to Orthanc and another place he named as Helm's Deep.

Following him was another blond haired man named Cælin, who reported that there were still large numbers of dark creatures and wizards crossing their lands freely, attacking anyone that got in their way as they progressed westward. Many of the beings muttered at this news, as the sheer magnitude of the Dark Lord's power was astounding to have been heard so far for so long.

"It is as the Seer's of the centaur clans predicted from the stars," said the lone centaur in the circle. Severus recognized the blond haired Firenze, the same centaur that Albus had hired to teach Divination at Hogwarts the year previously. "Long have our people foreseen this doom…"

"Foreseen and done nothing!" Faykan replied angrily.

Firenze huffed, "this is not our war…"

Draco shot to his feet, "Have you listened to nothing that has been said?" he shouted, "Voldemort threatens us all, centaurs included!"

"What does a boy know of such matters?" questioned Firenze, glowering at Draco, "why has this foal earned such high esteem as to be allowed a seat here, amongst the noble and wise ones?"

"This is no mere boy, Firenze," Faykan retorted, "He is Draco, next heir of the line of the Blacks, and through them, the heir of the house of _Telcontar_."

Silence rippled throughout the council. Severus glanced at Albus, but the old man was as puzzled as he was of this revelation, but every other being and person in the council has evidently understood some hidden meaning behind the title.

"This," Firenze said slowly, gesturing at Draco, "is the Heir of Aragorn _Elessar_?"

"And Heir to the throne of Gondor…" added Faykan, "You, all of you, owe him your allegiance."

Faykan did not allow the next bout of silence to continue, ushering the meeting to continue, tugging Draco back into his seat as Firenze stepped back into his position.

The goblin who had interrupted Severus spoke next. Gornuk grimly stated that vast amounts of gold was still moving from the vaults of Death Eaters currently locked in Azkaban, as well as the Malfoy and Nott vaults. The representative of Gringotts, though neutral in the war effort, speculated that the gold was being used to bribe Ministry workers and purchase weapons for the Dark Lord's armies.

The Unspeakable, Bode, confirmed this in his testament from the Department of Mysteries, that Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour was vastly unaware of the lingering corruption in the remnants of the Ministry following Fudge's dismissal for incompetence. He stated that the Ministry wasn't expected to last long fighting against the Death Eaters this second time.

Finally, Albus was called upon, and stood to address the council, his garish purple and gold robes swirling as he strode to the center of the room. "Hogwarts remains as it has for the past years, vastly under defended. Too many are relying on my presence alone to guard their children against Voldemort and his servants. The Ministry is supplying Aurors this year, but I hardly think this will be sufficient if Voldemort's top goal becomes taking the school or slaying one of its inhabitants." Everyone knew immediately that Albus was referring to himself more than Harry, and Severus was surprised to see the old man so open and revealing about his inner fears.

"I have taken several security measures, but I wish to request further assistance this year, especially from you yourself Lord Alatar." Albus said, and Faykan nodded, consenting to give his assistance and urging Albus to continue.

Albus took a small breath before proceeding, "I also intend, this year, to finally take Harry Potter's preparation to fight Voldemort into my own hands, something I should have done long ago, and that I now deeply regret not doing so sooner. With your permission, I would like to schedule time along the school year to meet with Harry and yourself, and add my own wisdom to what you have taught Harry."

"Very well Albus, I will allow you to assist myself in training Harry this year," Faykan said. Albus smiled and sat back down.

Faykan paused for several moments, considering before he spoke. "I advise a multipronged attack against Voldemort's powerbases." He said, rising to pace around the circular room. "Here in Germany, we will strike at the moving hordes of reinforcements that his power is drawing to him, with the untied Rohirrim and the Dwarves of _Agarond_ and _Moria_. Lord Borin," he directed his attention to one of the eldest of the dwarves, "will the sons of Durin be prepared to fight alongside men once more?"

The dwarf laughed loudly, "We would consider it a great honour, Alatar, to fight alongside the heir of our most ancient ally, as Gimli, son of Gloin, would have us do."

Faykan then turned to the two men, "King Ceolwulf, Lord Cælin, what say the Rohirrim?"

The older of the two, Ceolwulf, pondered a moment before speaking, "Long has the nation of Gondor called upon other nations to support them in hours of need, and long has Rohan answered. We will not now break that allegiance. We will ride to ruin and the world's ending with you Lord Alatar, and you Lord _Telcontar_!"

Before Faykan could even ask, Mrs. Zabini stood, the light of the torches glistening off her battle armor, "The legions of the south are at you command, as always, my Lord Alatar. Harad has always been, and will be, your deepest ally," she declared, before retaking her seat, a proud smile on her face.

"I thank you for your loyalty War-Queen Zabini," Faykan said as she sat. Faykan's eyes turned to Firenze, "What say you, centaur? What will the guardians of the forest decide?"

The blond centaur bristled, then spoke, "I cannot speak for my clan, as they choose to believe that this is not our war still, but I swear to you, I will fight with the Heir of Isildur to the death, alone if need be."

Faykan smiled before turning back to the rest of the council. "Albus and I shall work to convince the centaurs that they are indeed part of this war, and I would request Dwarven arms be created for them when they choose to join us…"

"I do not see," Gornuk interrupted again, "why you would even consider the crafts of dwarves when Goblin smiths surpassed them ages ago?"

Severus knew of the deep hatred between goblins and dwarves, spanning far back to before the Middle Ages, and the many wars that were wages between the two races. The hate filled words had their desired affect, enraging Borin to rising and drawing forth a shining steel axe, "Goblincraft can never match the finest workings of the dwarves you orc-spawn!" he blustered. The goblins were armed instantly, short swords and knives almost appearing in their long-fingered hands.

The swift crack of wood on stone brought everyone's attention back to Faykan, who glared at both parties until they backed down, "There will be no violence in this council. It is high time that the races of Goblins and Dwarves forgot and forgave old grievances. You are both masters in your crafts, different and majestic in your own rights. To compare a masterpiece from the grandeur of _Moria_ to an ancient goblin artifact is like comparing a sapphire to a ruby. Both are equally beautiful even in their differences. No longer do your nations war with each other and I will hear no more of your old contentions."

Severus settled back for the conclusion of the meeting, Faykan dictating the remaining groups to watch the Ministry and Gringotts further, and the groups separated. Albus immediately went to chat with Faykan, probably to iron out their mutual interests with Harry's training, while the other people and creatures milled about or left. Severus watched as Draco and Harry spoke quietly for several minutes before exiting the room off an antechamber that Severus knew lead back up the tower toward the guest rooms.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry stretched lazily in the warm branches of the ancient tree he was currently lounging in. The black fur of his animagus form soaked in the warmth of the summer afternoon making him quite comfortable and sleepy. Harry understood intimately why large felines liked to simple lie around all day; it was too much effort to move about when the soothing warmed on his skin begged him to simply nap the day away.

Lazily, Harry's thoughts drifted back to the reason he was out here. Faykan had been so busy between setting up raids on the marauding orcs on the plains, and sending off hordes of letters to their other allies, that he had completely forgotten that he had promised to spend time with Harry and walk through the forest. Naturally it was an excuse for them to be alone. There were simply too many people with the refugees from Rohan around for them to have secure privacy except in rare moments like this one was supposed to be.

A movement below caught Harry's attention, and he turned his head to watch as a black figure emerged from the brush below his tree. Harry's instantly recognized the scent of his best friend, even in his animagus form, but chose to remain where he was. The large Kitsune walked into the clearing at the base of Harry's tree, sniffing the ground, clearly following Harry's scent. Inwardly, Harry smiled as he cautiously rose and prepared to pounce upon Faykan. A few more steps and Faykan was searching the branches of the tree, his crystal blue eyes searching for Harry in the shadows. Harry sprung, diving down and crashing, paws first, into the lean form of the Kitsune, knocking them both flying across the soft grass. Faykan yelped, more out of surprise than actual pain, as Harry playfully nipped and lightly scratched him as they tumbled, landing on top of the fox-like form and pinning the Kitsune with his strong forelegs.

Faykan struggled feebly for a few moments, before he shifted back to his human form, surrendering to Harry's victorious surprise attack. Purring in satisfaction, Harry began to lick Faykan's face, causing the other boy to struggle anew and laugh uncontrollably.

"Harry!" he yelled, twisting this way and that, attempting to avoid the torture of the rough tongue coating his face in sticky saliva, "Quit it! I give! I give!"

Harry rumbled a cat's version of a chuckle Faykan's now disheveled face, and then rolled off him, shifting back to his human form and lying on his side next to the blue-eyed boy as he struggled for breath.

"You look good that way," Harry teased as Faykan wiped his face over with his robe sleeve, glaring the whole time. Faykan smiled at him, all irritation forgotten. "I'm sorry," he said, rolling over to kneel next to Harry, his long black hair falling arounds his shoulders.

"About what?" Harry asked.

"For getting too busy to spend time with you, or Draco either for that matter…" Faykan replied.

Harry shrugged as he adjusted on the cool grass, "That's alright, we know you have a lot to do, leading the entire forces of the Light and all."

"Thank you," Faykan said cheerily, rising up to rest on his knees as he ran a hand through his hair, brushing it behind his ears, "If I recall correctly, I owe you one long walk through the forest…"

"Indeed you are correct, my dear Fay," Harry joked, allowing Faykan to pull him up to a standing position. They then together they then set off deep into the forests of Fanghorn, wandering the wild paths and listening to the simple beauty of the ancient forest. Occasionally Faykan would tell some story of long past ages, or explain the many features and uses of a plant they came across. Normally this would fascinate Harry to no end, but Harry's thoughts were preoccupied.

"Faykan," Harry asked, turning to look at his companion, "could you tell me, uh… some stories about you perhaps?"

Faykan hesitated, pausing mid-step to look at Harry in mild confusion, "About, me?"

Harry nodded, suddenly realizing that he was holding his breath.

"About me…" Faykan repeated, more to himself than Harry, fumbling in his robe and pulling out his long clay pipe, "In all my years… but so much to say, and where to begin…" He thoughtfully lit the end of the pipe and balanced it between his teeth, sucking in the fumes and blowing a stream of sweet smelling smoke into the air.

"How about where you picked up smoking?" Harry offered, and Faykan closed his eyes, remembering days long past.

"Well, I suppose I picked up the idea from Gandalf rather early on, early or mid Third Age perhaps. I never gave it a try myself until the fourth though, when I found this old pipe in Orthanc. Saruman's I presume, as the tower had been vacant since he was cast from the order of the Istari…"

On the tale went from there, spreading to the long years that he had walked the earth, assisting his fellow Istari, Radagast and Pallando, with their tasks as the world aged. With mild sadness, Faykan also spoke of how he watched the last of the elves depart _Arda_ across the sea, never to return, and the slow decline of the other magical races.

"Where did they go?" Harry asked, "The elves. Where did they sail to?"

Eyes full of longing and sadness, but smiling, Faykan replied, "Home. Home to the Undying Lands of _Valinor_… the same lands that the Istari came from all those ages ago…"

'What's it like?' was what Harry died to ask further, but the look of sorrow and longing in Faykan's face at the thought of his homeland stayed his tongue. Instead, Harry put one hand on his friend's shoulder, and whispered, "I'm glad you came to _Arda_, Faykan."

Light shone from Faykan's eyes as he smiled back at Harry, "So am I, dear _Kentano_, so am I…"

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Albus waited patiently out by the Forbidden Forest, idly listening to the whistle of the wind through the trees and smelling the rich resin of the many pines and other plants at the edge of the woods. The grounds were one of his favorite places to go during the quiet summer holidays, when there were no students to distract his thoughts, or other school related duties for him to fulfill.

The soft displacement of air and the rush of magic signaled the arrival of Lord Alatar. The old Istari was dressed in a simple black robe, very similar to the student uniforms for Hogwarts, except that they were plain, with no house affiliation on them whatsoever. Albus nodded once to Alatar as he approached, and the Istar replied with a neutral, "Good evening, Albus." Albus could feel powerful magic wafting off the teenage body like a wildfire. Alatar was doing nothing to disguise himself at the moment, declaring his location and power to the denizens of the forest.

"Good Evening, Lord Alatar. Well, shall we?" Albus asked, gesturing to the forest.

"Lead the way." The old _Maiar_ replied, and together they set off through the trees, searching out the centaur herd of Hogwarts' forest. They walked in silence for a long ways, wandering the paths at random, just waiting for a centaur scout to approach them first. Thankfully, Albus had relocated Hagrid's giant half-brother to a large cave north of Hogwarts, who had been on rather unfriendly terms with the centaur clan during his half year stay in the forest. As they walked, Albus' thoughts drifted to his quiet companion, and the discussion they had had almost a week ago, after the meeting of the reestablished White Council. Together they had briefly spoke about the things Albus desired to show Harry, mainly the memories about Tom Riddle, and the speculations Albus had since his and Harry's second year.

Albus planned to investigate his suspicions shortly after this discussion with the centaurs, and hopefully he would prove himself wrong, as the prospects of him being correct were daunting to say the least.

Alatar abruptly broke the silence, "Your thoughts are rather loud tonight Albus, I can sense that you have a new request to make of me."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Albus replied. "As you are probably aware, we are short one teacher again for this year, and I would like to request Harry's and your assistant in recruiting an old friend to fill the position."

Alatar seemed to ponder it for a moment, and nodded, "I feel that this is an acceptable request to make, but I sense that there is more than a simple teaching position to fill with this 'old friend' of yours."

"Ah, well," Albus replied, "As you probably remember well, old Horace Slughorn had a lot of interaction with Tom Riddle…"

"Say no more," Alatar interrupted, "I understand perfectly, and will help in whatever is needed to get the old Potion's Master back for his memories. I presume that Severus will be taking the Defense position at last then?"

"Indeed he will." Albus affirmed, causing Alatar to smile.

"You may be surprised how well this appointment will be received by the student body,"

Albus was about to question why exactly that was, but the snapping of a branch ahead caused them both to turn, just as a wild-looking, black haired centaur emerged from the brush, a bow loaded and aimed at the two wizards, "Who are you?" he demanded, looking from Albus to Alatar.

"We are representatives of the White Council, come to call upon the loyalties of the forest-keepers. You are Bane, of the Hogwarts centaur herd, and I, Alatar, request that I and Albus Dumbledore be taken to speak with your clan chieftain."

The black-haired centaur, Bane, froze in his tracks; however he did not lower his weapon. From all around them came the rustle of hooves as the rest of the clan emerged from the shadows of the trees. "I am Magorian," said a large chestnut centaur, "and I am the chief of our herd, but you will not find what you seek among us here, because this is not our war, and we centaurs will not meddle in the things written in the stars of the affairs of wizards."

It was the same argument that Albus had heard over and over, yet Faykan merely laughed, throwing back his head in mirth and letting the music of his voice fill the surrounding trees.

"What do you find so funny, human?" Bane said angrily, but Alatar ignored him, addressing the old Magorian.

"How far you have come, to read the stars and heed them not, so mighty the race of centaurs, guardians of the forests, believing themselves greater than man due to their wisdom and foresight, yet refusing to act on their findings, how _Elbereth_ weeps for your lack of love toward the children of _Ilúvatar_."

"What to you think to know of the Star-Queen?" Magorian bellowed, and several other centaurs lifted more bows. Their movement was dwarfed, however, but the sudden rumbling in he ground and a deep, moaning groan-like sound emanating from deeper in the forest, growing louder by the second. In a flash, Alatar's staff was in hand, and fire burned within his eyes as the black robes melted away to shimmering azure. Albus felt the concentrated magic coursing off Alatar as the centaurs gaped at the majesty of the Istari's might unveiled.

"I know much of the _Valar_ and their ways," Alatar spoke, his voice commanding and resonant, "for I am one of their servants of old, sent across the sea to guide the paths of men and elves. You, centaur," he continued, pointed at Mogorian, "will command your fellows to stay their weapons and gather their families. War has come, and the centaurs have been summoned by the heir of the house of _Elendil_ and the White Council of the free peoples of the earth. Will you dare to deny your oaths of old?"

With an ear splitting groan, several trees parted across from where Albus and Alatar stood, and something moved, tall and tree-like. This was the last straw for the centaurs; they fled, splintering into several directions. Albus audibly gasped as a tree, a massive rowan, literally strode into the small clearing upon two massive trunk-like legs. What was even more startling was that the tree creature was speaking, long slow words emerging from a surprisingly recognizable face.

"Foolish horse-men, brurahroom, know you not an Istari when you glimpse one." The tree spoke chidingly as he bent low to look at Alatar and Albus, "Young master Alatar, hoom, I'm pleased that you've come…"

Alatar smiled as he looked up into the giant face, "Good to see you, old friend." He then turned to Albus, smiling at the look of surprise and shock still plainly etched into the old wizard's face, "Albus Dumbledore, may I introduce you to _Bregalad_, last of the _Onodrim_."

"But," Albus said weakly, "it's a tree…"

"Tree," _Bregalad_ said, rising up to his full and quite substantial height, "I am no tree, I am an ent, huraroom…"

"My apologies," Albus replied mutely, still trying to comprehend.

"Nothing to worry yourself about young one, hoom. Many have made the same mistake. Call me, Quickbeam."

"How goes your securing of the forest, my good ent," Alatar said, bringing the tree-man out of his revelry.

"Three years I've wandered these woods, and in three years I have seen more anger and pain then in all my long life, huraroom. The trees of the forest are old, not nearly so as Fanghorn, but close, and are just as angry as is the old days, before the Last March, especially that large one up near the castle of stone. But they are beginning to awake, master Alatar, and remember their old ways, hoom. Soon they will remember that they can move and speak. I'd say another year, and this forest will start to resemble home."

"Excellent old friend, this is excellent, and the dark creatures of the forest?" Alatar replied.

"Driven away, all but the nest of spiders close to the heart of the forest, brurahoom. They are many, and even I could not force them to remove themselves. Their leader is dying, and they refuse to leave without a fight."

"Then that is the best we can hope for at the time being, many thanks Quickbeam. We'll leave you to your work, as we have much to do, and little time for it."

"Farewell to you both then, young beings, hoom. I hope you can make it back to visit sometime soon. It is very lonely these days, being the last and eldest creature left in all the world…"

Albus recovered part of his control after the hulking form of Quickbeam disappeared into the trees, "So…" he said shakily, "that was the oldest living creature in all the earth."

"Yes," Alatar replied, "Older even than I, discounting the years before I came to _Arda_. Shall we go, I think you mentioned some other business you had to prepare for, somewhere in the London area?"

"Yes…" Albus said, taking a last look where the ent had disappeared to, "I have an old village to visit, just some speculation to test…"

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

The cold wind of the mountain blew heavily down upon Bellatrix and her company of orcs and other dark wizards, as they made their way on foot through one difficult part of Germany towards the apparition point that would bring them safely back to her Master's side.

The Dark Lord has selected her personally to lead this particular group of newcomers, as it held a most valuable addition to Lord Voldemort's ranks, a High Necromancer named Abdurahman, and the pathway through this part of Germany had become increasingly dangerous. The snow at the top of this particular mountain had been rather heavy, but several strong heating and fire charms had protected most of the important people in the company, namely Bellatrix herself.

Coming up over a small rise in the side of the mountain, Bellatrix stopped, straining to hear something that sounded almost like a tiny voice coming from the southeast. "What is that?" said the bearded Arab. His accent was so thick that Bellatrix had to utilize a translation charm just to understand him, "Is that a voice on the air?" he continued. Bellatrix knew that voice, and her alarm escalated immediately, "Its Alatar!" she roared, warning all the others just as a small avalanche cascaded down upon them.

Several fire and blasting charms from Bella and Abdurahman protected their segment of the troupe, but most of the other orcs, dark wizards and other creatures were swept away in the snow and ice. "We must get off the mountain," Abdurahman yelled over the howling wind, pulling at Bellatrix's arm, but she stood her ground, unwilling to retreat.

"We must turn back!" he yelled, but Bellatrix stormed forward, casting dark curses to blast the wall of snow and rock away, "No!" she yelled back, but the voice of the child Lord sounded on the air again, loud and dominating.

"_Cuiva nwalca Carnirassë! Nai yarvaxëa rasselya taltuva ñotto-carinnar!_"

Dark storm clouds gathered in seconds, hailing lightning and sleet down in torrents. Bella knew the next avalanche would kill them all, and she sprinted at Abdurhman, activating her emergence portkey as she seized him. The screams of the dying sounded around them as they were pulled forward, but all Bellatrix could think of was how her Master would be displeased with the closing of another pathway for his forces from the east.

_Sgiathach Telcontar : Dragon Strider, Telcontar was the family name Aragorn took at his coronation._

_Kentano : Potter, Faykan's name for Harry_

_Cuiva nwalca Carnirassë! Nai yarvaxëa rasselya taltuva ñotto-carinnar! : __Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your blood-stained horn shall fall upon the enemy-heads_


	3. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to those who reviewed Chapter 1. Please continue to be as supportive as you all have been thus far, it truly does a world of difference. R&R and Enjoy!**

**Chapter Two**

**An Eventful Summer**

The moon hung low over the small knoll as Albus Dumbledore appeared out of the darkness with a small pop. The village of Little Hangleton spread out before the hill that Albus had chosen to apparate to. The quaint muggle village seemed as ordinary and unmemorable as the others Albus had visited over his lifetime, and even if he was here for recreation and not important business that may pertain to the war against Tom Riddle, he knew of many better towns or cities to visit.

As he had told Alatar during the meeting of the White Council, he had a small lead that would help prepare Harry for his final fight with Voldemort. But before Albus would inform either Harry or the ancient Istari of his thoughts and suspicions, he needed to come here, to Little Hangleton, and investigate the sites that Albus believed Lord Voldemort's parents lived. The first place that Albus had found was the Riddle Manor, located near the graveyard that Harry and Alatar had been transported to, two years previously, and the second was a small dwelling nearer where Albus had apparated to, which was the home of the Gaunts, whose family Albus was nearly certain that Voldemort must be heir of, mainly because of his gift of Parseltongue, which the Gaunts were definitely noted for possessing.

As Albus approached the location that he knew where the home of the Gaunts was located, the feeling of something dark and menacing grew. The scent of powerful magic was growing more intoxicating the closer he got. By the time Albus could see the small dilapidated shack the presence of Tom's brand of dark magic was thick enough to coat the ground in a sinister miasma. It was no wonder that no one had disturbed the shack in all the years since its abandonment, as the wards and sheer power of evil that surrounded it would drive even the more moderately powered wizards away in a stupor of why they came in the first place. But for someone as powerful as Albus, it shone as a beacon that something of great importance to Voldemort was here, and Albus was determined to find whatever it was.

Unfortunately for Albus, dismantling the ward surrounding the shack was a strenuous task, even for a wizard as great and powerful as himself. Voldemort, there was no guess as to who had placed them, had wove the layers of warding with so many subtle and cruel intricacies that any one of them alone could have had disastrous consequences should Albus not have taken the time and used the power to unravel them all carefully. Even when the surrounding wards were down, and Albus had passed within the filthy shack, passing the long dead serpent nailed to the front door, there were still more wards to deconstruct. Voldemort clearly did not expect people to make it past the outer wards, as the ones inside were not nearly as strong, albeit still way beyond the average wizard capabilities to remove without using a group ritual, but he must have been desperate to protect whatever was here to add so many more within the structure, and Albus had to exert a great deal of magical energy in the act of subtly peeling each and every one away without triggering the whole lot.

After the last of the wards were finally dismantled, hours later, Albus was surprised that the stench of Voldemort's dark magic was _still_ emanating from some place within the half collapsed shack. After a few moments of searching, Albus discovered the source of the magic, hiding under a loosened floorboard. Hands trembling slightly, Albus removed the small golden box that radiated the pure hate and ambitious power that acted as a clear stamp of Voldemort's identity. His suspicions confirmed that this was a definite link to Voldemort's past, Albus prepared to apparate back to Hogwarts, but… something… drove his curiosity toward opening the box to see what the Dark Lord had been so desperate to protect and hide.

The light of Albus' wandless _lumos _glinted off the slightly warped gold and black stone of the Gaunt family ring, and Albus nodded, pieces of the mystery behind Tom Riddle's past falling into place… but… looking closer at the ring, Albus noticed something that made his old heart skip a beat.

The symbol etched into the small black stone imbedded in the ring, like a coat of arms, was so familiar… a straight vertical line, within a circle, within a triangle. Widening his eyes in astonishment, Albus dropped the box container as he brought the ring and its precious stone to his chest, the stone that he had searched for years to find: the resurrection stone of the Deathly Hallows. Without even thinking Albus slid the ring onto his right hand's ring finger. The ring grew cold as Albus relished the thought of speaking with Ariana once again…

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Bright sunlight poured through the opened window of Draco's room of the tower of Orthanc, granting him a perfect view of the snowcapped mountain of _Caradhras_, the same mountain Faykan had told Draco and Harry that orcs and dark wizards loyal to Voldemort had been using to cross around the open plains of Rohan until Faykan destroyed the pass by causing an avalanche to seal it permanently.

Harry and Faykan were currently out scouting with the Rohirrim raid parties, searching for any trace of minions of Voldemort preparing to cross the pass of Isengard and proceed closer to Britain, and Draco had declined to join them, opting to use the free time to read a letter that had just arrived by a large golden owl from his mother that morning. Draco was very uncertain how to take this abrupt start in correspondence from Narcissa, as it had been nearly three months since the end of the previous year, and Draco had received no letters from anyone in his family. Plucking up his Slytherin courage and turning back to his mother's letter, Draco read swiftly, noting the quick and scratchy handwriting that was so very unlike his mother to put to parchment:

_My Beloved Draco,_

_Firstly, I want you to know that I am so proud of you my dearest son. You have made your own choice, throwing off the will of your father and his Lord in your life. Even as I write this I have left Malfoy Manor and moved to one of the Black properties hidden away in France. I shall, now that I am finally settled and secluded from your father, be more available to send you help and advise should you ever request it. Stick by your convictions my beloved dragon, and keep your friends close to you._

_Your loving Mother_

The smallest bubble of warmth emerged from the sea of tumult inside Draco when he finished the letter. While his father had disowned him, rejected and spurned him completely, in addition to removing his heritage as the Malfoy scion, his mother was proud, even to the point of being inspired by her son to leave her husband and his Lord. Draco's rebellion had, in effect, torn his own family completely asunder. But yet… if what Faykan had told him was true… Draco chanced a glance at the sword now lying on his bed, gleaming in the sunlight… If it was true, then the Malfoy family was only a tiny blip in Draco's future.

'_Sgiathatch Telcontar_…'

Whirling, Draco stared, open mouthed in the direction the sound of his new name that Faykan has bestowed upon him had originated, his eyes landing on the sword. Even as he watched, it rose from the bed and floated in midair, sunlight sparkling and glinting off the cool metal surface. Slowly, a figure materialized in front of the sword, tall and strong, and disturbingly familiar to Draco. As he stood and moved to stand before the phantasmal man, the figure bowed as he approached.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, only a touch of surprise and fear in his voice.

What he heard in response, came not in any verbal sound, but resonated from within his own mind, as if the figure planted the words directly into Draco.

'_I am Eldarion Telcontar, the Mage-King of the Reunited Kingdom, and son of Elessar,' _sounded the voice of the specter, '_I am the first of the Edan Istar and the spirit guardian of __Andúril, and now_,_ your new mentor_...'

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Severus swore inwardly as he finished work on attempting to reverse the curse that Dumbledore has foolishly allowed to take effect on him from the ring he had acquired from Merlin-knows-where. Even more irritating, Dumbledore was being rather tight-lipped with the information of where he went these days and even why he risked putting on this ring in the first place. Severus had his work cut out for him to say the least.

"It's a miracle you managed to return here at all," Severus said angrily, decided to try once more to get the old man to talk, "that ring carries a curse of extraordinary power. All I could do was merely restrain it to only your hand for now."

Dumbledore glanced at the limb in question, as calm as someone examining an interesting curio. What really shocked and confused Severus was what was said next by his old mentor, said as calm as one discussing the weather, "You have done well Severus. How long do you think I have?"

Hesitantly, Severus replied, "A year, maybe… there is no halting such a spell as this forever. It will spread eventually, as it's the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Dumbledore had the audacity to smile. Severus couldn't understand what was going on through the old man's head anymore. It was as if the fact that he had less than a year to live meant nothing to him. "I am fortunate then, extremely fortunate that I found you in time Severus."

"But why was it necessary?" Severus said, diving straight to the core of the matter. "For what purpose did you even acquire this cursed ring?"

Dumbledore paused for several minutes before speaking, staring at the tiny gold ring and its black stone, lying silently on the Headmaster's large desk, "Harry and Lord Alatar will need it, before Voldemort can be defeated…"

Severus glared at the old man, but the aged Headmaster refused to say any more about the subject, claiming that he would explain to Faykan and Harry when the school year recommenced, and shooing Severus out with the excuse that he was exhausted and needed to rest. Severus knew that he would do little to no resting, but he was powerless to stop him, and decided to let the old man have his way for now, and departed.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Lord Voldemort was surprisingly not as furious at the news that Bellatrix had brought to him as his servants obviously feared he would be. His devious mind had already formulated a new plan to incorporate his newly acquired Necromancer. The inferi that had been with Abdurahman and Bella as they traveled through Germany may have been destroyed, but there were still plenty of muggles in the British Isles to supply a vast army of the dead for their Lord's use.

"My Lord…" Bellatrix asked imploringly, from her and the Middle Eastern wizard's positions prostrated on the floor before him, "What are your orders?"

Voldemort glared down at her for a moment, then turned to Abdurahman, "Come forward Necromancer, and hold out your left arm…" when the Arab had done so, Lord Voldemort began the ritual to brand his newest servant. "Do you, Abdurahman, Necromancer, by your own free will and choice, commit to take upon yourself the Dark Mark, and serve the Dark Lord Voldemort until you join your brothers beyond this world?"

"I do my Lord…" the Necromancer replied, kneeling and thrusting out his left forearm as he pulled back the sleeve of his black robe.

"Then be branded as a Death Eater… _Morsmordre_!"

The man screamed as the Dark Mark burned itself permanently into his flesh, cauterizing instantly and flaming red as the skin reacted to the magic suddenly implanted inside it. Lord Voldemort told them now of his plan, and where they were to carry it out, and to take with them a legion of orcs, and several of the giants that had most recently swollen his ranks, and destroy and raise an army that would show no fear to do their Lord's will.

"As you command my Lord…" his servants sang in unison.

The Dark Lord of the earth simply smiled as he dismissed them both to carry it out, finally leaving his throne room himself and descending to the basement of their hideaway to continue watching the final training exercises of his new apprentice. The boy was practicing the Cruciatus on a muggle prisoner as he entered, the man having lost the strength to scream during the torture. The only show of emotion on the young man's face was the grim smirk set amidst the deep concentration required to keep the spell going.

"Enough my boy…" Voldemort commanded, and the boy quickly obeyed, leaving the muggle to writhe and moan in pain. "Now for your final lesson… kill him."

"As you command my Lord." Theodore Nott replied, before turning back to the miserable muggle, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The muggle only had time to widen his eyes and the sickly green jet of light snuffed out his worthless life. The high, cold sound of Lord Voldemort's laughter echoed off the walls of Malfoy Manor's dungeons as two nameless Death Eaters came to remove the lifeless corpse. The boy would make a perfect assassin, and one that Dumbledore would least suspect to have such mastery of the Dark Arts.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry thought that he would eventually get used to messages arriving to Faykan throughout the days by the many Crebain that flocked around the forest and onward, but once again he jumped as a small group of them came hurtling into the main room of Orthanc while he, Draco and Faykan were eating their morning meal with several of the key individuals of the refugees from Rohan. The black birds swirled madly above them, cawing incessantly until immediately turning about and disappearing through an open window and back out to the open skies.

"What was _this_ one about?" Draco asked, slight annoyance evident in his voice. Harry learned quickly that Draco was not a morning person, and it was best to wait for him to have a full meal before engaging him with anything less than that which was of utmost important.

"That was probably the best news that could have possibly come this morning, Faykan said, before calmly standing up from the table and moving toward the stairs that lead to their private quarters.

Harry looked between the retreating form of his best friend, and his half finished breakfast, and quickly moved to follow. As they climbed the spiral staircase to the residential level of the tower, Harry heard the lighter footsteps that signaled that, poor mood or not, Draco was going to tag along to discover the full meaning of the message.

As they entered Faykan's bedroom, Harry and Draco immediately noticed the distinct lack of anything that was clear decoration of the room. It seemed rather like Faykan had removed anything that was not of some practical use from the room to make space to maneuver between the many mounds of books and scrolls that filled bookshelves, piled on top of tables, and built up along several areas of the floor. Effortlessly, Faykan waved his staff and summoned a small medallion engraved with a large bear on it, before turning back to Harry and Draco. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, you know. I don't expect you both to divert yourselves from important things like nutrition…"

"Nonsense!" they both argued, "We'd rather go wherever you're going more than anything!"

Faykan looked at them both, slightly puzzled, and then shrugged, holding out the medallion to them both. They took it, and the small token glowed blue. Harry felt the all too familiar pull of an activating Portkey.

When they landed, far more gracefully than Harry ever remembered landing after a Portkey ride, they looked around, taking in the new scenery. It seemed relatively similar to the fords of Isen, but the mountains, which were to the west instead of the north, were much closer, and Harry could almost see their bases through the trees. They had arrived on a great flat rock set directly in the middle of a large, lazy river.

Turning to Faykan, Harry noted that his best friend was gazing to the southeast, as if waiting for someone or something to appear, "Fay," Harry started slowly, "Why did we come here anyway?"

"The White Council has been granted audience to meet with the Beorning chieftain about the mighty men of the mountains joining out fight against Voldemort." Faykan replied, before nodding in the direction he was staring, "They have arrived…"

Harry turned, and was surprised when he saw the large shapes of half a dozen bears ascending to meet them. As they crested the final steps carved into the stone hill, the foremost and by far largest of the massive bears stopped before the three wizards, before rearing up on its hind legs and shifting, transforming into a huge bearded man, easily rivaling Hagrid in height, but his eyes lacking much of Hagrid's warmth as he scrutinized the three apparent boys in front of him.

"Well," the man half-grunted, his voice gravely and loud, "what do you want?"

Faykan waited a moment before responding, "You are Beornhelm I presume, Chieftain of the Beornings?"

"And if I am?" Retorted the man angrily, glaring down at Faykan.

"Then I would have valuable information that you are keenly interested in, which I am willing to give in exchange for your support against the Dark Lord." Faykan replied smugly.

Beornhelm glowered at Faykan, half yelling at this point, his voice booming across the river surrounding the large stone hill, "The only information I would want, wizard, is the whereabouts of my long lost daughter! And we still wouldn't help you in your war even if you did have that!"

"I know exactly where your daughter is, and how you can get into contact with her and her family," Faykan said quietly.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU…" the huge man roared, catching himself when he processed what Faykan had actually said, "You… you know where my Augusta is?"

"I do, and if the Beornings pledge themselves to opposing Voldemort and his army of orcs and other evils…"

"ORCS!" Beornhelm was back to shouting again, and Harry had to cover his ears to avoid them ringing. "WHY DID YOU NOT SAY THAT YOU WERE FIGHTING ORCS?!" he softened slightly, after glancing at Harry and Draco wincing, "We'll fight for the chance to exterminate the foulness of orcs from this world, and myself for the knowledge of what became of my daughter."

"Excellent," Faykan said happily, before turning back to Harry and Draco. "Wait!" Beornhelm said, taking a massive step forward, "What of my daughter…?"

Faykan turned back, grinning cheekily at the mountain of a man, "All in good time, but first, these two," he gestured toward Harry and Draco, "need to return to Orthanc, and to their breakfasts that they poorly neglected…" in response Draco's stomach gave a particularly loud rumble.

Beornhelm looked ready to explode again, but grumbled, "You could come and eat with us, the honey-cakes are particularly good this time of year…"

Faykan merely raised an eyebrow, "So generous Beornhelm, we will graciously accept…" and together, surrounded by the other giant bears, they made their way down the hillock of stone and toward a large manor made of wood on the boarders of the forest.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Hermione gaped in awe of the massive spire that comprised the Tower of Orthanc. Even though she had seen it before in the _Palantír_ that Faykan had brought to Hogwarts three years previously, it did not compare to seeing the elegant structure in person.

After several long discussions, and even appealing to Dumbledore, Faykan, Harry and Draco had managed to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to permit Hermione and Ron to come to 'the mysterious fortress where Harry was hiding for his safety' as Dumbledore had told the Weasleys, and the five friends were set to be reunited just in time to celebrate Harry's sixteenth birthday.

Hermione was personally glad to be away from the Burrow, for several reasons. Firstly, as much as she loved Mrs. Weasley, she was currently being a bit overbearing, due to the presence of her son Bill's new fiancé, Fleur Delacour, the same girl from Beauxbatons that participated in the Triwizard Tournament, and the clash of personalities was terribly unpleasant to everyone nearby. In addition, Ginny had become slightly tiresome after learning that Hermione and Ron were going to be allowed to go with Harry, Draco and Faykan for the rest of the summer. It was very apparent that Ginny and Draco had grown some kind of a budding romance ever since their fourth year, but with all that had occurred during that and the succeeding year, the two had barely had any time to nurture it, and it was clear that Ginny was resentful of this, and was looking to other boys to make Draco jealous.

But as Hermione and Ron followed Faykan and Dumbledore up to the large entrance door to the tower, all thoughts of Ginny or Mrs. Weasley were dashed from her mind as she struggled to take in everything that the vale of Isengard had to offer all at once. As they entered, Hermione saw Draco and Harry at once, and with a squeal of delight, wrapped them both in a tight embrace.

"Let them breathe Hermione," Ron said jokingly, brushing aside to pat his best friends on the shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes in return, but she released the two boys and turned to continue observing the ancient architecture of the tower.

"What's wrong with Dumbledore's hand?" Harry asked, sneaking a glance toward the aged wizard, now locked in conversation with Faykan.

"Don't know," Ron replied, "Wouldn't say when my parents asked him, something to do with the war I reckon though."

Hermione's eyes were drawn to the Headmaster's hand as Ron, Draco and Harry continued to talk about Quidditch and school, and she grimaced slightly at the blacked and cracked skin of the limb. It must have been very painful. Faykan and Dumbledore were so locked in their discussion that they weren't even aware, or did not care, that they were being watched. Eventually, they must have come to some agreement, as they shook hands, and turned to approach the rest of them.

"So, I have good news and kinda sort-of good news…" Faykan announced.

"What's the good news?" Ron replied automatically, and Hermione saw Harry and Draco smirk. Clearly she and Ron had been missed over the past month.

"Well, the good news is that we have Albus' permission to stay together here until the beginning of the school year, where we will be given direct transportation to King's Cross," Faykan said, pausing to take a small breath, allowing the Headmaster to pick up the conversation.

"The 'sort-of' good news that Lord Alatar has called it," he said, glancing at Faykan with an amused twinkle, "is that I would like to request Harry's presence for the afternoon as I go to try and hire a new teacher for this year at Hogwarts."

"In addition," Faykan finished, "We have our O.W.L results…" he said, flourishing out the five letters bearing the Ministry seal. Hermione gasped, snatching hers within a matter of seconds, tearing open the letter to read before anyone had time to react.

_Ordinary Wizarding Level Results _

_Pass Grades: _

_Outstanding (O) _

_Exceeds Expectations (E) _

_Acceptable (A) _

_Fail Grades: _

_Poor (P) _

_Dreadful (D) _

_Troll (T) _

_Hermione Jean Granger has achieved:_

_Ancient Runes: O  
>Arithmancy: O<br>Astronomy O  
>Care of Magical Creatures: O<br>Charms: O  
>Defense Against the Dark Arts: E<br>Herbology: O  
>History of Magic: O<br>Potions: O  
>Transfiguration: O<em>

Hermione was not, however, so absorbed in her own results to miss the excited whoop from the three other boys, who each announced their respectable number of passing O. .

"I figured it would be quicker to deliver these in person," said Headmaster Dumbledore, chuckling slightly at their shows of delight at the results of their exams, "especially as I would be here regardless to transport Hermione and Ronald and to take Harry for the afternoon.

Hermione could understand why Harry had been hesitant to go with Dumbledore on this expedition, but with a small glance at Faykan, who nodded reassuringly, Harry agreed, before tucking the OWL results in his pocket and following Dumbledore out of the tower.

After they had left, Faykan turn to the three of them grinning madly in that fox-like way that Hermione knew meant that he was scheming, "Now that Harry's out of our hair," Faykan snorted at his accidental and poorly made pun, "we can prepare for his birthday surprise party…"

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry knew he definitely preferred flying as his mode of transportation. The squeezing, suffocating sensation of apparition was not at all pleasant, but mercifully it was short. Together, Harry and Dumbledore landed in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches.

Without a pause, Dumbledore set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses, not noticing at all the glances and odd looks he was receiving by the few remaining people still outdoors. The clock on a nearby church read that it was around nine at night.

"So tell me Harry," said Dumbledore casually, "Your scar… has it been hurting at all?"

Harry frowned, not expecting this line of questions, and unconsciously raised his hand to feel the lightning bolt scar. "No," he said, and then thought about it for a moment, "that is odd though, now that I think about it. Wouldn't it be burning more often now that Voldemort is getting so powerful again?"

Harry glanced up at Dumbledore, and saw that the old Headmaster was wearing a satisfied expression, "I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," Dumbledore replied. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings that you have freely used against him. He must be employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining," said Harry, who missed neither the disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemort's mind.

They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore again. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Where exactly are we?"

"This Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"Oh…" replied Harry, "…and were here to find a new teacher for this year at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly as he explained, "Yes and No… You see Harry, Horace Slughorn is actually an old colleague that retired before you were born, and I need your help to persuade him to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion, "How can I help with that sir?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," said Dumbledore vaguely. "Left here, Harry."

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," said Dumbledore. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance…"

"…you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," said Harry quickly. "Hermione told me."

"And she is quite right. We turn left again."

They continued chatting for several moments, the topic varying from one neutral topic to another, until they finally neared a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. As they reached the front gate, Dumbledore stopped abruptly and Harry nearly walked into him.

"Oh dear, Oh dear, dear, dear…"

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted.

"Wand out and follow me, Harry," he said quietly.

He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry at his heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready.

"_Lumos_."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry right behind him.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made Dumbledore look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body.

"Maybe there was a fight and… and they dragged him off, Professor?" Harry suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a man would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

"You mean he's…?"

"Still here somewhere? Yes."

And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," said Dumbledore, straightening up again.

Harry's jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt."

The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walrus-like mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Dumbledore's chin.

"What gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore, looking amused, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead.

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something... ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"Please," said the other.

They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments re-formed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Dumbledore loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather flock.

"On the walls? Dragon," shouted the wizard called Horace, as, with a deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into the ceiling. There was a final plunk from the piano, and silence.

"Yes, dragon," repeated the wizard conversationally. "My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable."

He stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within.

"Hmm. Bit dusty."

He set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon Harry.

"Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry's forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. "Oho!"

"This," said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated. "All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly when Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry.

"Hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes.

"Here…" He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. His legs were so short they did not touch the floor.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well," said Slughorn at once. "Weak chest... Wheezy... Rheumatism too... Can't move like I used to… Well, that's to be expected. Old age... Fatigue..."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," said Dumbledore. "You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. I'm a tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

He certainly had those, thought Harry, looking around the room. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions. If Harry had not known who lived there, he would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.

Dumbledore and Slughorn kept on talking for several more minutes, simple niceties that Harry knew were merely a screen for the real debate going on between them, having watched Faykan and Draco argue in the same manner several times over the years.

Harry was so wrapped up in his other thoughts that he almost jumped when Dumbledore stood up suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" asked Slughorn at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," said Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Slughorn, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive look at Harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his wide behind.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he said abruptly.

Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn's watery eyes slid over Harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

"You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told," said Harry.

"Except for your eyes. You've got…"

"My mother's eyes, yeah." Harry had heard it so often he found it a bit wearing.

"Hmpf… Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to Harrys questioning look. "Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl… I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. "Oh, now," he went on quickly, seeing the expression on Harry's face and wagging a stubby ringer at him, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Faykan Undol? You must have done, you were in the Triwizard tournament with him two years ago… whole family had been in Slytherin, all named the same for that matter also… but anyway, this Faykan went to Gryffindor. I taught his father and grandfather, and without reading what the prophet reported about the tournament, I knew he would have had their same prodigious talent. Might have returned if that boy was still at Hogwarts…"

He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. Apparently lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on his backside.

"Your mother was Muggleborn, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out… Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

"One of my best friends is Muggleborn," said Harry, "and she's the best in our year."

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" said Slughorn.

"Not really," said Harry coldly.

Slughorn looked down at him in surprise. "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" he said. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too… now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course… another Muggleborn, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with tiny moving occupants.

"All ex-students… all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes… a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkisss who gave him his first job! And at the back, you'll see her if you just crane your neck, that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies... People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

This thought seemed to cheer him up enormously.

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked Harry, who could not help wondering why the Death Eaters had not yet tracked down Slughorn if hampers of sweets, Quidditch tickets, and visitors craving his advice and opinions could find him.

The smile slid from Slughorn's face as quickly as the blood from his walls.

"Of course not," he said, looking down at Harry. "I have been out of touch with everybody for a year."

Harry had the impression that the words shocked Slughorn himself; he looked quite unsettled for a moment. Then he shrugged.

"Still... the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate…"

"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," replied Harry, "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed, well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort."

Harry had been sure Slughorn would be one of those wizards who could not bear to hear Voldemort's name spoken aloud, and was not disappointed: Slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which Harry ignored.

"I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's Headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry went on.

Slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: He seemed to be thinking over Harry's words.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly. "And I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend... in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus... I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones' death did not shake me... If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection..."

Dumbledore reentered the room and Slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house.

"Oh, there you are, Albus," he said. "You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," said Dumbledore. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Not at all reluctant to obey, Harry jumped to his feet. Slughorn seemed taken aback.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost...?"

Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry zip up his jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," said Dumbledore, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes... well... very gracious... as I say..."

"Goodbye, then."

"Bye," said Harry.

They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," said Slughorn impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," grunted Slughorn.

As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn's voice floated after them, "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"


	4. Chapter 3

**I am most pleased to present this chapter, as it was one of my personal favorite senses in the story thus far, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. R&R please!**

**Chapter Three**

**A Loss of Innocence**

Dumbledore sighed, once again staring at a mountain of paperwork in his office, while wondering why he didn't bother delegating some, or all, of it to Minerva or Severus so he was free to engage with his other more important pursuits, like sleeping, this early in the morning.

His musing was interrupted, as it was so often these days, by the loud and quite grating sounds of several large crows cawing. Trying to ignore them, Albus focused on the note from other Order members, imploring his advice what to do since the deaths of Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance. Albus sighed, those two deaths had greatly helped Voldemort's side of the war. Amelia, because of her high standing position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Emmiline as an effective spy and informant of the movements of many Death Eaters, but alas…

The confounded squawking sounded again, jolting Albus from this line of thought as well. Frowning, Albus wondered momentarily if Alatar had sent them to just annoy him, and remembering that lead him to thinking of how both the old Istari and Harry would indeed be returning to Hogwarts this year, and both would clearly be attractive to that old collector Horace Slughorn. Indeed the man had only agreed to return from retirement to add Harry to his collection of students, but Albus knew that Alatar, in his disguise of Severus' apprentice, Will Stanton, would also be of keen appeal to the old potion's Master.

Another loud caw from his window finally irritated the aged Headmaster one step too far, "What is it?" he asked, throwing the window open and admitting entrance to not one, but five large ravens, which cawed madly as they soared around the study. Fawkes watched with mild curiosity as the other birds wheeled and spun through the room. Clearly they were distressed, but Albus did not have the skills to understand them as Alatar had.

"I'm sorry but I don't understand? Do you have a message from Lord Alatar?" Albus asked, hoping for the birds to settle enough to give him the parchment or whatever other means of communication that the ancient wizard had for him. He was startled when, instead of dropping a letter, one of the ravens landed directly on his shoulder, staring at him with one large black eye. Suddenly, Albus' mind was filled with the sight of many orcs, marching on a small city far to the southeast… Truro, Albus thought it was called, down in Cornwall of the West Country.

Realization dawned upon Albus. The birds weren't relaying a message; they were warning the closest ally of Alatar that Voldemort was attacking the muggles. Albus wasted no time, "Fawkes, it's an emergency, contact Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Bill, Fleur, Tonks, Alastor, and Remus, have them use their Portkey's tied to me." The phoenix answered with a sharp cry before vanishing in a ball of fire.

Albus almost stormed out his office door, intent on finding Minerva and Hagrid before apparating to the battle site, when he stopped. Turning to the shelf where the sorting hat lay, Albus saw a gleaming silver handle protruding from the base of the ancient relic. Grasping the jeweled hilt, Albus drew out the sword of Godric Gryffindor, and ancient magic coursed through his body, strengthening him in what he knew was right. "Thank you Hogwarts…" Albus murmured, before turning and sprinting for the gate to Hogsmead, gathering both Minerva and Hagrid and explaining the dire situation, minus some details as to the identity of Lord Zemar of Germany.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Bellatrix cackled as her severing curse torn another hapless muggle apart, spraying the filthy blood across the ground. Her Lord had been so forgiving for her failure, and had assigned her to guard Abdurahman as the Middle Eastern Necromancer replenished the forces lost in Germany. It so happened that doing so required them to kill mass amounts of muggles, one of Bella's favorite pastimes.

"Do try to keep the bodies intact Bellatrix," the dark skinned man said, "They make better inferi when they have all their limbs…"

Bellatrix huffed as she tagged another child with the Killing Curse; reveling in the screams of dead child's mother who had watched before she too was cut down by one of the many orcs they had taken with them to level the Muggle city. She watched in fascination as the Arab chanted the dark curse that brought back both child and mother, reuniting them in undeath, before they turned to slaughter more of their former friends and neighbors.

They were making swift progress, having only arrived around half an hour previous, and already a decent portion of the town had been destroyed. The giants they had brought were making good work of buildings, as well as forcing the muggles out into the open to be cut down by the orcs and Death Eaters.

A pair of sharp cracks caused Bellatrix to whirl, and she gaped as Albus Dumbledore charged into the fray, followed by Minerva McGonagall and the half-giant oaf of theirs. The orcs immediately sprang at them, but the hulkish man tossed them aside like nothing, while the Transfiguration Mistress conjured a whirling vortex of shrapnel to cut and tear at any foolish enough to approach her, meanwhile firing stunners and charms at her opponents.

Worst of all was Dumbledore himself, wielding a shining silver and ruby encrusted sword, cleaving through orcs and blasting powerful magic at all who dared accost the wizard. Bellatrix wasn't too terribly worried, they had achieved more than their quota, and before any of them could hope to reach her or the Necromancer, they would be long gone.

Soon the trio were joined by the majority of the Order of the Phoenix, and together the pesky witches and wizards started to make headway through the limitless ranks of orcs, joining up with small pockets of muggles that were managing to resist.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Dumbledore grimaced as another muggle was cut down by the ranks of orcs before reaching the perimeter that the Order was forming, before needing to slash at another beast that leapt at him. The hideous creature dodged back, before being blasted away as one of the several armed muggles fired his large weapon. Albus nodded at the muggle in silent thanks, before cursing a small group of Death Eaters who were trying to burn down a house.

Albus knew that they could not drive away the Death Eaters without more assistance, and drew out the tiny stone that Lord Alatar had given him, focus his will to call for the aid of the Istari and whatever allies he could bring. The best they could, and would do, would be to hold off the inevitable until they were rescued.

A grim determination settled over Albus as he cast an anti-apparition ward, encircling the entirety of the battlefield, preventing easy escape from either side, or small pockets of reinforcements. Albus was certain that Alatar would not try apparition, but something better suited to move larger amounts of soldiers, like a mass portkey or something equally clever. As much as Albus did not like the almost reckless style of the ancient sorcerer, he trusted Alatar to fulfill whatever goal he set himself to.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

The sky was grey with a red sunrise as Harry was jolted awake by the blaring sound of Faykan's voice, magnified by a _Sonorus_ charm, "Emergency, leaders of Rohan, and other important dignitaries report to the main throne chambers, this is an Emergency!"

In a daze, Harry dressed quickly, and half ran along the passage to the congested stairway, finding Draco, Ron and Hermione as he entered the main room of Orthanc. Faykan was already there, pacing and fully dressed, wand tapping against his thigh in impatience as the rest of the people milled into the room.

"Lord Alatar," King Ceolwulf asked in agitation, "Is it something to do with Voldemort?"

Faykan nodded gravely, "I've received news," he said, holding up a small flat stone with a red phoenix on it, "Lord Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix have engaged Voldemort's forces near Truro in Cornwall, and has called for our aid in battle."

The human king stood in silence for a few moments, before responding solemnly, "And Rohan will answer…" calling to Cælin, he added in a proud bark, "muster the Rohirrim! The horn of Helm Hammerhand will sound in orcish ears once again! Bring my Armor!"

The Marshal bowed stiffly before sprinting out of the tower, yelling for warriors to prepare for war, followed by his King.

"We shall also join you, Lord Alatar," the dwarf king Borin said, stepping forward and pounding his broad chest with a fist.

"As will a small contingent of our warriors," added the goblin, Gornuk. The dwarf and goblin exchanged a cold glance, before departing to gather their own companions.

Faykan nodded, before pulling out another flat object Harry recognized as his token of the DA that he and Hermione had enchanted. Tapping it with his wand, he murmured, "_Portus Congrego_." The small coin glowed deep blue, and Faykan relayed his message, calling out to the other A.D.A. members scattered throughout Britain.

"Were coming too!" Hermione called impatiently, and Faykan turned back to her.

"I had no inclinations to the otherwise, actually I'm surprised you all aren't getting ready, we have a battle to win after all," he responded, motioning at their sate of partial dress and lack of weapons. The four students scattered, dashing back to the respective rooms. Harry grabbed his wand, heavy robes and _Hadhafang_. He was about to return to Faykan, when an impression came to him, and he returned, snatching up his Firebolt and the Phial of Galadriel, just in case.

When Harry returned, he found Faykan chatting with the rest of the members of the A.D.A.: Cedric Diggory, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Fred, George and finally Ginny, all dressed and being equipped by Faykan's house elves.

"Mum's going to freak when she finds everyone gone," Ron said, as he joined his siblings, but Ginny shook her head, "No she won't, but she'll be furious when we show up at the battle she's already at, with dad too and…" but Ginny stopped, staring past Ron and Harry up the passage to the staircase. Harry turned to see Draco, wearing a black tabard, surmounted with a white tree, seven stars and a winged helm. Harry recognized it at the symbol of the Reunited Kingdom. At his side swung the sword _Andúril_, and over his armored shoulders he held his one of the many custom brooms that Faykan had in Orthanc.

"Let's go you lot, there's no time to lose!" Faykan called, and they followed swiftly out to meet the rest of their army. And an army it was indeed, as they found lines upon lines of mounted horsemen, along with a small company of dwarves and goblins respectively. King Ceolwulf rode up to Faykan, his white horse pawing the ground as if sensing the impending conflict.

"Six hundred spears my Lord." The Rohirric King stated flatly, as if he had expected more.

"We do not face an army as big as the lines of Mordor, and not that larger a force broke them utterly." Faykan replied comfortingly, before whistling and summoning several horses from Fanghorn's depths. Spreading them out to those of the ADA who lacked the skill to fly, Faykan gave them orders to stay with the Riders of Rohan, and that they would be safe.

Turning to Harry, Ron, Draco, Fred, George, Ginny and Cedric, Faykan handed out five more of his custom brooms before speaking, "You lot will lead our aerial division, and we have two hundred wizards and witches who'll follow you to bombard the enemy line with anything you can throw at them, follow the orders of King Ceolwulf, and watch for my signals, just as we practiced."

They nodded, and turned to find their group of broom wielding wizards, the forefront was headed by none other than Victor Krum. They had little time to chat, as soon the leaders were calling for them to form up and prepare to move out, and Harry wondered how they were going to get to England with all their forces. Faykan did not disappoint, raising his staff and tearing a hole in midair before them, opening what Harry could only describe as a portal, widening and enlarging it to fit twelve mounted riders across, with lots of room overhead for flyers.

Ceolwulf was shouting to his soldiers, and Harry listened eagerly to the king as he rallied their troops, "Arise! Arise riders of Rohan! Fell deeds awake… now for wrath… now for ruin, and the red dawn. Forth, _Eorlingas_!" The King raised an ancient looking horn to his lips and blew a deep bellowing note, and the men and women cried out together a cry of death and ruin, and Harry could not help but join them in their cry.

The King turned to face the portal, and slashed his drawn sword downward, and surged forward as he cried, "Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride to ruin and the world's ending!" Harry mounted his broom as the over two hundred flyers around him took off soared over the charging cavalry of Germany and together the army poured through the portal, the sound of many horns blaring around them.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Dumbledore saw another set of muggles go down, cleaved by orcish weaponry. The Order had been holding out for almost an hour of nonstop fighting, and the enemy waves seemed endless. The Order members were tiring, and Albus himself was starting to feel the effects of fatigue. But the burning of the stone in his pocket assured him that reinforcements were on their way, so he continued to rally his fellow witches and wizards and push back against the tide of orcs.

As he was cutting down another grisly orc in front of him, he felt more than heard a warning, and dodged to the side just as a deadly green jet of light soared past him. Cackling in her mad way, Bellatrix Lestrange advanced to contend with Albus directly, sending more Unforgivable curses and other Dark Arts at the weary wizard. If not for the Elder Wand in his hand, Albus knew that Bellatrix would have had the upper hand, but the ancient weapon would not fail him, blocking or redirecting everything she sent at him, while he dodged her Killing Curses as fast as they came.

Unfortunately, he ended up slipping on some poor muggle's corpse, stumbling just as the lunatic witch shot another green beam of death. Dumbledore made a split second decision, and copied a technique he had seen only Alatar perform, and slashed at the death curse with Godric's sword. The curse rebounded, but the force of it wrenched the sword from Albus' hand, sending it flying over the heads of several other fighters.

Bellatrix laughed again, "Now you will fall Albus Dumbledore, _Avada_…" she stopped, turning to the northeastern hills, just as Albus himself heard the noise that had distracted her, and indeed most of the other combatants.

It was the sound of horns… many horns… wildly blowing, sending their notes bellowing down into the valley. From past the line of hills a single horseman mounted the raised terrain, clad in deep blue robes, carrying a staff and a sword at his side. "Alatar…" Albus half whispered, both in joy and relief. The staff raised, and behind the Istari a huge line of horsemen appeared and started charging down the hill, weapons raised and a great battle cry severing the momentary silence.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Hermione followed the lines of horsemen, Luna beside her on another mount given her by Faykan, bows loaded and awaiting them to reach accurate range. The lines of the riders of Rohan surged forth, galloping down the hill with spear and sword pointed at the mob of orcs attempting to demolish the muggle town. It was exhilaration beyond anything Hermione had ever known, the freezing feeling just before battle was engaged. The orcs were mobilizing as well, trying to form a line of pikes to stop the thunderous charge, with archers of their own behind.

But Faykan, charging ahead of the rest with king Ceolwulf, raised his staff as a preassigned signal, and Harry, Ron, Draco and the other two hundred plus fliers sped past the mass of cavalry, spearheading the charge. The return counter was obvious when Hermione felt another, newer cold dread start to creep up her skin. Hundreds of Dementors soared down from the clouds, clawed hands reaching to seize the broom riders.

Faykan thrust out his staff to the sky again, and many other of the witches and wizards among the surging attack raised their own wands, and mid charge the unified shouts of "_Expecto Patronum_!" filled the air over the sounds of galloping hooves. An army of silvery animals bust forth, crashing into and driving away the Dementors and allowing the fliers to slip past. The moment the lead flyer, Hermione could only guess that it might be Harry by the short black hair, had sailed over the front line of orcs, jets of light sailed downward, as the many blasting hexes detonated on the wall of spears, shattering the orc line just as the Rohirrim collided with them.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Bellatrix sneered at Dumbledore as the army of horsemen surged into the rear lines of orcs. The old man merely smiled at her, before raising his wand, ready to continue their duel. But Bellatrix hadn't the time; she had to get back to Abdurahman and be ready to portkey them out at a moment's notice. Dodging the old man's final few stunners, Bella danced through the lines of advancing orcs, struggling to reach the old Necromancer before the horsemen did.

That was, until she saw who was at the head of the line, blazing like a sun at noonday. It was Alatar, the Light Lord who had defeated her last year and who fought her Master to a standstill with Dumbledore. Taking aim, she smirked as she intoned the Killing Curse one more time, and laughed at it hit the pure white horse the Lord was riding, throwing the foolish wizard as the beast died instantly and collapsed.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Draco, from his vantage point in the air, saw instantly when Faykan's mount was killed, and threw him from itself into a mass of orcs. Harry, flying to his left, screamed Faykan's name, but the astounding wizard managed a full frontal flip and relaunched himself off the head of an unsuspecting orc, redirecting himself fluidly to dive feet first into a different mob of creatures, landing on another with a flying kick. Moments later said group of orcs went flying in all directions at the vicious strikes from both sword and staff as Faykan went, from what Draco could tell, absolutely berserk. _Glamdring_ blazed with blue fire and Faykan's robes flew about him as he twisted and turned to slash, stab and bash anything that approached him.

But Draco was torn from the awe inspiring sight by another scream, this time closer to the group of defenders trying to protect a large contingent of muggles. Molly Weasley had been hit, falling as her wand arm and torso was drenched in her own blood. Draco acted purely on instinct and dove toward her; urging the broom to go faster than it was designed to, desperate to reach the Weasley matriarch before it was too late. Only as he landed and threw the broom aside did he register Ron, Fred, George and Ginny following. _Andúril_ flashed as he drew it, hacking down the orc attempting to finish off the aged woman, and Draco knelt beside her, "Hold still Mrs. Weasley," he said in a rush, fumbling in his pouch for fresh _Athelas_ leaves from Fanghorn, grinding them into a dry kind of paste with one hand and pressing it to part of the long wound, acting before he even realized what was going on.

From inside his mind, the ghostly voice of _Eldarion_ spoke from the sword in his hand, "_The hands of the king are the hands of a healer_..."

The Weasley children arrived, crowding around their mother, and Draco directed them to bandage the leaves to the wound and get Molly to safety, before he stood, leaping into the nearest orc, _Andúril_ carving through the monster as the Mage-King's spirit guided Draco, warning him of attacking foes and directing his own strikes. Through his and the Weasley children's efforts, they returned Molly within the circle of Order Members, and Draco went immediately to treat anyone, muggle or wizard-kind, of injury, treating as many of the wounded as he could before returning to the battlefield himself.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Dumbledore felt the wave of power that surged from Lord Alatar when the Istari took to the field. It flared from the moment he was dismounted, and burned like the blazing sun in the sky. But even with all that power, the wizard was still outnumbered and surrounded. Having retrieved Gryffindor's sword when Bellatrix fled, Albus started cutting a path toward the Istari, striving to open the way back to the defenders. Albus almost felt drawn to the radiating power as the hacked and slashed at orc after orc, and he felt the tiredness melt from his body. Even his cursed hand, which had been aching painfully at being used, was quickly soothed by the pure magic that wafted in the air.

He arrived just as Alatar felled a large hulking monster with grotesque fangs, and was met by the burning eyes of a warrior. "Let this be the hour," Alatar said, breathing heavily, "when we draw swords together."

Albus nodded, and together they danced the dance of death, sword, wand and staff singing through the air as they widened a circle of carnage, filled with the black blood of the orcs. Lightning crackled and fire spewed force from spells of both great wizards, and slowly, the pair of them made their way back through the melee to the rest of the defenders.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry led another pass of the aerial fighters as they sought to cut off the orcish onslaught, using _bombarda_ and _confringo _to great effect. With the combined might of the Rohirrim and the Order of the Phoenix, they were managing to push the line of the creatures of Voldemort back. Indeed many of the orcs and Death Eaters were starting to retreat, trying to escape the anti-apparition ward set up before they Harry had arrived.

But the battle was far from over, and Harry felt the tides starting to shift back in favor of the dark forces, as a large bellowing roar sounded from the far lines of orcs. Several hulking figures were wading through the sea of dark creature, lumbering along with massive weapons on their shoulders.

Giants were quickly approaching through the lines to the forefront. The King of Rohan must have seen this as well, as Harry heard him cry out to his nearby forces. "Reform the line! Reform the line!" The riders formed up almost instantly, creating a solid wall of man and horse. "Sound the charge," Ceolwulf cried, and horns blared once again as his mount lunged forward, "take them head on! Charge!"

Once again the lines of Rohan surged into the mass of dark creatures, approaching the giants rapidly. The lead giant, a muscular brute with a heavy under bite, snarled out another roar and swung his massive club, connecting sharply with an oncoming warrior, sending both horse and rider flying with a scream of agony.

The horsemen only reached waist height to the giants, and Harry knew that the cavalry would need support to content with the giants. Sending up golden sparks with his wand, Harry rallied the aerial forces and sped toward the giants.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Hermione shuddered as she the ground started to shake, felt over the jerking of her galloping steed. The massive footfalls of the giants crashed through the wall of riders, sending them parting to avoid the crushing weight of their legs. Hermione glanced to her left, seeing Luna with a small knot of other mounted archers, attempting to pepper a giant with around the torso as they rode around in wide circles, ducking to avoid the swinging club.

Realizing that this tactic wasn't going to be effective, Hermione thought quickly. Most of the giants had some sort of this hide or crude armor on their bodies, but only a sparse few had any sort of helmet on them. Acting, she withdrew the elven bow from her back, and concentrating hard, she drew back the string and formed an arrow of pure lightning. Taking great care with her aim as her mount raced near another giant, she cried out "aim for the heads!" as she let her arrow fly.

The lightning crackled through the air, striking the giant between the eyes, burning a large hole into the thick skull. The great warclub fell to the earth, followed quickly by its former owner, never to rise again.

Hermione had no time to pause and realize that she had just committed her first murder, as she turned and spurred her mount toward another hulking brute, who was causing a great deal of havoc as it attempted to crush or bash nearby riders. Knots of nearby mounted archers were peppering its face with arrows, but the beast was smart enough to throw an arm in front of its eyes, shielding itself from the barrage.

Then Hermione saw a smaller group of dwarves and goblins surge past the many horses, each group in turn cutting down any straggler orcs they came across. What was odd was what Hermione heard each of them calling out as they felled a foe. It sounded as though they were counting their kills, each group collectively, Dwarves versus Goblins… this continued until they approached the giant, when one of the nimble Goblins sank a bone tipped dagger into the budging shins, causing the hulking giants to howl in agony, and sink to its knees.

The goblin wasted no time, scrambling up the huge body, using its own daggers as climbing tools, until the tiny Goblin leapted the last few feet, and sank its pair of daggers into the back of the giant's neck. It screamed a death cry, falling face first and dropping the goblin neatly in front of the dwarves, who stared grumpily.

"That still only counts as one!" their leader cried in outrage, before the group turned to resume hacking apart orcs that came too near.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Bellatrix snarled as she saw the giants starting to fall back, blundering in the beginnings of full blown panic. Soon the British Aurors would arrive, and their defeat would be assured then. Luckily many of the remaining Death Eaters had already fled, and all Bella had to do was get back to Abdurahman and portkey back to her master, where the majority of the undead they had created were now assembled.

But she was forced to stop from perusing the Arab when a loud voice boomed over the din of war, "BELLATRIX!"

She turned, firing a curse before even seeing who had yelled at her, but had to dodge when the green light was redirected by the fiery sword of Lord Alatar. She snarled, gathering her magic around her like a cloak, and preparing her defenses. She knew she stood little chance against the powerful wizard, but if she could just delay him long enough to reach Abdurahman, she could escape. The staff of power in the Light Lord's hand spun madly as he fired spell after spell, seeking to simply overwhelm Bellatrix with pure magical might. She ducked, dodged and blocked everything she could, barely managing to keep ahead of the bombardment of attacks.

Occasionally orc would leap in to try and cut down the powerful wizard, but he was moving far too fast, and stabbed or swatted each in turn with his deadly weapons, still keeping up a steady barrage of spells at Bella. Her strength waning, Bellatrix looked around wildly for some escape. She was only a few yards from the Necromancer, now surrounded by a protecting phalanx of orcs and inferi, but something else caught her eye.

Draco, her blood traitor nephew, was cutting his way toward the fighting wizards through the remnants of the orcs. Blocking another spell, Bella smirked as she leveled her wand at the boy, "_Avada Kedavera_!" she cried. The green jet hit home, striking the boy in the chest and hurtling him backwards into the mud.

Alatar watched in horror, and Bella turned to gloat, but stopped, wide eyed at the sight of the wizard's fury. Waves of pure magical energy, at a level Bella had never before sensed, not even from her Lord, was pulsing from Alatar. Wind was kicked up by magical means and the burning azure eyes, boring into Bella, turned into a blinding white radiance.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry felt the anger burn through like a molten river him as Bellatrix killed Draco. His head was throbbing with the cold fury, but it was little compared to what he felt from Faykan. The other boy was burning white hot, and seemed to shine like a freshly born star. The nearby orcs shrieked and fell away, several burning as the white light struck them.

Electricity crackled from Faykan's fingers and along his weapons, and he began to slowly advance on Bellatrix, a cold detachment on what part of his face was visible over the shining whiteness. The Dark Witch turned and ran, sprinting in outright desperation toward the last knot of stragglers. Faykan leveled his staff at her, and the power seemed to reach a peak, as far as what Harry could feel. All the energy built up in his body seemed to drain into the staff, power pouring through it like a funnel, launching out toward the last group of orcs and Death Eaters.

Bellatrix had just reached them, pulling a Middle Eastern wizard to her and vanishing with a portkey before the energy struck. The ground shook as the light exploded, rocketing a massive blast of pure light high into the sky, and leaving nothing of the creatures that had been consumed by it. Ashes seemed to trickle down after the light dissipated, and those who had watched were struck in amazement and fear of the tremendous amount of magic that had just been used.

Dropping his staff and sword, Faykan ran to Draco's body, and Harry sped down from his high vantage point to meet him. "No, no… Draco…" Faykan murmured, gathering the fallen body to him, and starting to lift him from the ground. A large crowd had gathered, including the Dumbledore and his Order, as well as the Goblins, Dwarves and leaders of Rohan. They were all shocked, then, when with a huge gasp of air, Draco lurched, seeming to come back to life at Faykan's touch.

Harry stood there, dumbstruck. "I'm alright… I'm not hurt…" Draco panted, touching a tender spot on his chest where the Killing Curse had struck him.

"You should be dead…" Harry stammered, eyes threatening to fall from his face. "No one survives that curse."

"I believe there's more to Mr. Malfoy, than meets the eye…" Dumbledore said, more to himself than anyone else.

In response, and with minor assistance form Faykan, Draco pulled his shirt aside, revealing the shining silvery coat of rings that he wore under his clothing.

"Mithril…" Borin breathed, clearly impressed, "You are full of surprises Lord _Telcontar_."

Just then the cracks of apparition filled the air, as about three dozen Aurors arrived, looking ready for a fight, but lowering their wands as they observed the carnage around them.

"We must leave, quickly, before the Aurors start to ask questions." Faykan told Dumbledore quickly, before pulling Draco to his feet. "Tend to your wounded. I'll contact you at the nearest connivance Albus."

"Of course Lord Zemar…" Dumbledore said, nodding slightly before heading toward the Aurors, presumably Harry thought, to distract them until they managed to get away. By the time the massive portal was shutting behind them, Harry had caught only one small glimpse of the lead Auror starting to obliviate muggles as the cleanup squads and oblivators arrived.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Lord Voldemort was pleased with the accomplishment of his most trusted servants. Not only had Bellatrix and the Necromancer managed to more than replace the forces lost at the battle, but they forced their enemies into the open, and now their Lord knew what he was up against. These armies of mere muggle and squibs would be no match for the Dark Lord of the Earth and his trusted Death Eaters.

"_Do not underestimate the powers of men_…" hissed the voice from his ring of power. Voldemort frowned, it wasn't often that he heard anything in advice from the ring anymore, but he was starting to feel something else growing within it, almost a storing up of power inside the ring itself. But no matter, it wasn't something he, a powerful Dark Wizard, needed to concern himself with. The ring served him, and no one else, therefore he had nothing to fear from the artifact.

All he needed to do was wait for his assassin to open the way for Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts, and fulfill his mission of eliminating Dumbledore, Alatar, or bring him Harry Potter, whichever of the three he could do. It was a difficult command, but the youth was eager to obey his Lord's will, if not fully ready yet. There was still needed some sort of plan to actually get troops into Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort knew that the old fool Dumbledore would do something to prevent outside forces from entering without his lofty permission, but there were always means to take to get around something like that.

Such as with this recent battle, although considered a loss, there was actually more behind the scenes to be won in the long run. Patience was not one of the Dark Lords most preferred strategies, but when called for, he could wait out an eternity if need be. Voldemort smirked at the thought. The wizarding world would be his, in the end. It was inevitable.

_Portus Congrego : gathering door (Latin)_


	5. Chapter 4

**I am somewhat disappointed with the lack of reaction to the previous chapter, and am still very curious to know what the general reception of it, and by extension this chapter, was. I counted a single review on the last two weeks since I posted, and that rather hurt. while I do know that there are plenty of you out there faithfully reading, hearing a kind word now and then is still very much appreciated.**

**That said, I am happy to inform you that I have commenced the rough draft of ANP7, Light of the West, and from the looks of where it is leading to, it will be quite exciting from the word go. but enough of that, we have a delightful chapter right here and now for your reading pleasure. Please Review, and as always, enjoy!**

**Chapter Four**

**The Fortification of Hogwarts**

The rest of the summer seemed to fly by uneventfully to Harry. He seemed to constantly be pulled back into thinking about the battle in Cornwall, and all the events that had occurred leading up to it. He understood, from both logical conclusion and directly asking Faykan, how they had learned so fast of the attack to be able to prevent the majority of the city from being destroyed. They were all very grateful of Faykan's Crebain and their continued vigil over all of Britain, constantly watching for the movement of Voldemort's forces.

But there were still several things that Harry didn't fully understand. Chief among these was what had happened to Faykan when Draco was struck my Bellatrix. The magnitude of magic that had poured from his best friend startled Harry to no end. He knew that the others were thinking along the same lines, but were less capable of asking and expecting an honest answer from the very private wizard.

The next biggest thing, which tied in strongly the Harry chief question, was how eager Faykan had seemed to be to engage Voldemort's forces head on like they had, and built a strategy around a frontal assault instead of focusing on saving lives.

Harry hoped that he would have time to speak to Faykan about these things while they, Draco, Ron and Hermione went to Diagon Alley to collect their supplies for their sixth year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore and the Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, had offered each in turn protection during this outing, but Fay had denied both, stating that they had more than enough measures in place should Death Eaters attempt to take them in the wizarding marketplace.

Despite this, Mrs. Weasley still had had many concerns regarding Ron being away from her direct supervision, but Fay had argued that wherever her children were they were still in danger from Voldemort, and at least here, surrounded by his friends, he was just as protected as he would have been by family. In the end, Mrs. Weasley had backed down, grudgingly, and allowed Ron to accompany the rest and meet the rest of the Weasleys in Diagon.

The dingy muggle street outside the Leaky Cauldron was the same as it always was, and no one noticed the group of five teenagers entering the pub. Even when they entered the eerily empty tavern, they passed unnoticed. Tom, the landlord, did glance at them, but quickly returned to wiping glasses, knowing instinctively that they were merely passing through to the alley behind.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, according to Ron and Hermione, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. These seemed to be full of fake protective amulets, charms and other merchandise that the seedy looking wizards were selling.

They were set to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny at Fred and George's shop around two in the afternoon, and as it was only about noon now, they decided to go collect their gold from Gringotts and get started on their purchases for Hogwarts.

Entering the bank, Harry had to pause, the amount of people there were crammed inside the building was shocking. It seemed that hundreds of people were checking on the status of their vaults, and quite a few people were simply withdrawing all their money before leaving with the sharp cracks of apparition.

Luckily, the goblin that Faykan approached beckoned to their group, leading them immediately to a back office, stating that Gornuk would deal with their business directly. The representative of the Goblin Nation smile toothily as they entered, giving Faykan and Draco small bows in turn, before motioning for them all to sit. "Well, you all picked a fine busy day to show up in Diagon." He said in what qualified for cheerful among Goblins.

"Indeed, I suppose that all the people removing their gold must not be very well received by Gringotts." Faykan said, receiving a grim nod from the goblin. "But we have no such intentions, merely small withdrawals for spending money today." Gornuk nodded, and motioned for them to follow as he led them to the back area of the bank where the carts into the depths of the caves below lay.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Their pockets bulging with gold, even Ron's courtesy of Harry, Faykan and Draco himself, the five sixth year students returned to the main street of Diagon alley.

Draco had not thought that he would have been able to withdraw any gold, being barred from the Malfoy vaults and the Black ones being owned by Harry, but the Goblins surprised him, leading their group all the way to the very bottom of the bank, down to the oldest of the oldest vaults, declaring him the inheritor of the _Telcontar_ vault. Upon its opening, to Draco's touch no less, they had all been stunned with the amount of gold that lay within. Draco hadn't seen that amount of sheer wealth in his life, despite growing up in a well off family as he had.

The ancient treasures were also a point of interest in the massive vault, numerous suits of armor and weapons, shining shields with the symbols of Arnor and Gondor, even the massive banner of the Reunited Kingdom, which dated back to the time of _Elessar_ himself. Sadly, they did not have the means to transport any of the items today, and so Draco had simply piled a small money pouch full of gold and they departed to meet up with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had been released from St. Mungos after her frightful injury during the recent battle.

They still had some time before they were to meet them, however, and the group of five made their way slowly from shop to shop, purchasing their robes, books and potion supplies that they would need for the next year.

It was very strange for Draco to not be here without his parents, and he did feel somewhat saddened again by the loss of his families unity, but as if knowing exactly what he was thinking, Faykan appeared at his side, a friendly arm around Draco's shoulder and a reassuring squeeze of the arm before steering their group to Quality Quidditch supplies, much to Ron, Draco and Harry's delight.

Finally, the appointed time had arrived, and the group of students moved down the alley toward the only shop that seemed to be having any great success recently. The Weasley twins' shop was borderline an eyesore, hitting the eye like a firework display. Other passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed.

And outside the shop stood the rest of Weasley family, speaking with Fred or George out front. They waved as the group of five approached, and Mrs. Weasley in specific gave Draco a bone crushing hug, crying slightly as she murmured her deepest thanks for saving her life. The other Weasleys present, with the exception of Ron, expressed their own gratitude with various pats on the back, or in the twins case, a large box of their store's merchandise.

Finally getting past the sentimentality, Fred and George lead the group inside the joke shop, and gave Harry, Faykan and Draco a guided tour as the others milled about, examining things at their leisure. Draco was most impressed with their more 'Sirius' line of products, as they called them, in remembrance of the fallen Marauder. Even Harry had a hard time not laughing at the sweet irony of his godfather's legacy that the twins had bestowed on him.

A half hour later, Draco, Harry, Faykan, Ron and Hermione were looking around the busy front end of the shop, when they saw Theodore Nott stroll past the shop, looking rather suspicious as he walked down the deserted street.

"Wonder where _he's_ off to," Ron said icily, hand twitching toward the pocket of his cloak where the spear _Aiglos _was hidden.

"Should we follow him?" Draco asked, looking between Harry and Fay.

Faykan nodded to Harry to make the decision, and after a moment, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket.

"That'll only hide three of you," Faykan said, taking his wand out as well, "I'll disillusion myself and Draco, and well follow him together." With a sharp rap on the head, and the sticky feeling of cold dripping down his back, Faykan turned himself and Draco into human chameleons as Harry threw the cloak around himself Ron and Hermione.

"Come on," Said the voice of Harry, and slowly, dodging through the crowded store, Draco set off after Nott, hoping that the others were nearby, as he was blind to them as well.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Hermione was uneasy about following Theodore Nott, but it was rather suspicious, him being at Diagon all alone, especially these days. He _could _very easily be up to something, but Hermione felt that Harry and Faykan were just as likely overreacting. But it looked more likely they were right as Nott ducked to the left into Knockturn alley, and the trio followed quickly behind, the cloak flapping around their ankles. It was a lot more crowded under the cloak than when they were first years. Hermione pointed this out, but it didn't seem to matter, as the Dark Art side street was just as void as Diagon itself was. As long as they were silent they wouldn't be noticed.

Finally, Nott ducked into a store name Borgin and Burkes. They could see him approach the counter through the glass storefront, looking past the eerie cases of skulls and old books. An older man, Mr. Borgin or Mr. Burke Hermione guessed, stood chatting with the boy, but they couldn't hear what was being said.

"I've got this…" Draco's voice said to their right. All of a sudden, a pure white ferret appeared on the ground, scurrying through a gap in the wooden storefront and inside.

They watched for several minutes, until Nott turned back and left, smirking. Draco reappeared outside the store soon after, and they left, wanting to get as far from the creepy dark artifact store as possible before speaking.

"So Draco," Harry said when they had returned to the front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, "What was Nott saying?"

"He was looking to buy something," Draco said simply, "I think it may be been a lot of the same thing, and they were really expensive, Borgin was trying to talk Nott out of it, but Nott insisted. He showed Borgin something, but I was too low to the ground to see what, and he also mentioned Fenrir Greyback."

"Who?" Harry said.

"He's a werewolf, and a nasty one at that," Faykan said before urging Draco to continue.

"That's really all I heard… Borgin agreed to sell whatever they were talking about after that, and Nott wanted him to mail them to him instead of give them to him right away. Then he left."

"Wonder what he wanted so bad he had to threaten Mr. Borgin over it?" Hermione wondered out loud.

They spent the rest of the summer holiday at the Burrow, which made Mrs. Weasley very relieved to have them all under her gaze. Bill and was pleased to meet Harry and Faykan for the first time, even if he only thought he met the quiet and mysterious Will Stanton, whom Hermione found Fleur comment that the strange boy was 'rather 'andsome and witty.'

Ginny was also really happy to spend time in Draco's company, Hermione noticed. After having broken up with Michael Corner rather badly, it was nice to see the youngest member of the red headed clan continuing to pursue her dream of being with the blond ex-aristocrat, even if technically she was with Dean Tomas at the moment.

All too soon, though, September the first arrived, and the five close friends found themselves bidding the burrow farewell as they took the Ministry provided cars to King's Cross to catch the Hogwarts Express back to the safety of the castle.

Unfortunately, Hermione and Ron couldn't stay with Draco, Faykan and Harry, as they had Prefect duties to attend to, so they departed to start patrolling the corridors, promising to rejoin their friends when the train arrived in Hogsmead.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Harry was glad when Hermione and Ron returned, as the conversation had really not gone anywhere with Neville and Luna present. They had barely sat down, however, when a breathless third year girl stepped in.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Will Stanton, and Harry P-Potter…" she faltered, eyeing Harry and turning scarlet. Faykan sighed and snatched the pieces of parchment from her, mumbling thanks as she left, bumping into the wall before exiting the compartment.

"What is it?" Draco asked casually, as Faykan passed the papers to Neville and Harry. Unrolling his, Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Their invitations," he said.

_Harry, _

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. _

_Sincerely_, _Horace Slughorn_

"But what does he want me for?" Neville asked concernedly.

"Why wouldn't he want to see you?" Faykan said congenially, nudging Neville in the arm, "you're a young influential pureblood. Me on the other hand…" he broke off, but Harry could see that he was just playing the part of Will Stanton, not a special person to say the least, except for being a Potions prodigy, apprenticed to none other than Severus Snape, youngest Potions Master in nearly three hundred years.

"Well, best not keep him waiting," Harry said gloomily, standing and opening the compartment door. Faykan and Neville followed as he bade farewell to Ron, Hermione and Draco and together they slipped out into the corridor. Squeezing around the many students that were avidly awaiting the lunch trolley, Harry tried to ignore all the staring eyes, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since he had last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him.

But there were some who waved, like Ravenclaw Cho Chang, who was a member of the D.A., and all three Gryffindor boys returned the wave before continuing on. Harry was pleased to see that her old girlfriend, Marietta Edgecombe, who had ratted out the D.A. the previous year, was nowhere to be seen. Apparently they had parted ways after the event.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom! And Mr. Stanton, good to see you all, sit down please!"

Neville and Faykan nodded. At a gesture from Slughorn, they all sat down other in the only remaining empty seats, which were nearest the door, Harry sitting next to Faykan and across from Neville. Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognized Blaise Zabini from their year and a fellow Advanced D.A. member, who nodded sneakily at them; there were also two seventh-year boys Harry did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

Slughorn went around the compartment, introducing all the occupants, starting at Blaise and working his way around. The only other two in the compartment were students Harry had never had any contact with, Cormac McLaggen and Marcus Belby.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily, "a chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"_Anapneo_," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not... not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Err... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became Minister, obviously…"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."

It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential… everyone except Ginny and Fay, as far as Slughorn knew. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, revealed to the group that he had a famously beautiful witch for a mother, but he and Faykan already knew about Mrs. Zabini, having met her earlier during the summer.

Neville's turn was next: This was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Harry had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair. Faykan also ended his conversation with a more reserved note, and it seemed that Slughorn hadn't a clue what to make on him.

Harry's examination seemed to drag on in comparison to the others, Slughorn trying to worm every little detail he could out of him, before meandering off on some wild anecdote. Harry could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Will, Blaise … any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

"I'm glad that's over," mutter Neville as they left the compartment, "Strange man, isn't he?" he, Faykan, and Harry all laughed as the returned to their compartment to change.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Albus waited at the gates of Hogwarts, watching as the many carriages rolled past, pulled by Thestrals. Many of the students pressed their faces to the windows to see him as they rolled past, but only one carriage pulled off the path next to them.

Lord Alatar, Harry and their friends Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Draco emerged, the latter four looking confused, and the former with an expression of boredom.

"Hello Albus," he said with a pleasant sort of smirk. Albus recognized the reason immediately. Alatar was referring with a look alone of the last time they had met on these grounds, when he whisked Harry and Draco away by apparition. Frowning slightly at the voiceless jab, Albus waited in silence for the last of the carriages to roll by. "It's time Lord Alatar," he said after the last of the students were inside. The Istari nodded, and together they raised their wands to the opened gate.

With a great rushing wind, the gate slammed shut, seeming to become charged with the magical energy of the two powerful beings. Chanting the most powerful wards he could think of, Albus strove to keep up with the sheer magical power that Alatar provided for the wards, giving shape to the pure force. It was strenuous to say the least, like trying to direct a tidal wave. But at last, chanting the final incantation, together they sealed the most powerful wards Hogwarts had seen upon its grounds for centuries.

In a sudden flash, a brilliant orange phoenix flared over the gate, followed by a silvery blue Kitsune, and together the two creatures dashed around the perimeter of Hogwarts, glowing brightly in the night.

"It is finished," Alatar declared as the wards snapped fully into place, charging the air around them with vibrant power.

"Indeed," Albus confirmed, unable to speak much at the present moment from the massive amount of magical power needed to create such a warding. Albus figured that even Voldemort himself, with whatever power he had gained since his rebirth, would be hard pressed to penetrate the defenses they had now erected. But they wouldn't hold long, such was the nature of wards, and were too be used only in dire need.

Alatar himself raised his wand, swishing it in a complicated pattern, activated the runes that had been etched into the gate, commanding them to lower the wards they had just erected, but to remain alert for any command of their creators, Albus or Alatar, to reactivate and serve their design.

Catching his breath finally, Albus turned to the other three children, "Well," he said brightly, "Now that that's finish, lets head up to the feast."

The four students piled into their carriage, which set off again as the Thestral recommenced its journey to the castle, and Albus apparated, his status as Headmaster allowing him unrestricted access to the school.

Arriving in the side alcove beyond the staff table of the Great Hall, Albus entered, ignoring the loud tumult of the chattering students. Severus caught his eye, and Albus nodded, silently confirming that his task for defending the school this year was in place and ready.

Minutes later, after the last of the student had taken their seats; Minerva exited to collect the new First Years. Returning with the twin lines of eleven year olds, Albus settled himself for another blissful year of magical schooling, despite the times they were living in.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Severus had been unexpectedly pleased with his reception during the announcement that he would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Naturally the Slytherins applauded, minus Theodore Nott and his cronies, but also had the majority of Gryffindor, as well as all those who had been in the Advanced D.A. group the previous year. Having taken their lead, the rest of the lesser D.A. members had joined in. The rest of the school had looked at their housemates with confusion; boarder lining distrust, at them supporting the supposed evilest teacher in Hogwarts.

So it was a tiny spring in his step that Severus prepared for his first lesson, ironically with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students. He was more than ready to shock them to the core at his new approach to the subject of teaching, let alone his little announcement he had in store at the end of the period.

First students to arrive were, naturally, Harry Potter, Faykan Undol, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. He nodded silently to each of them as they took the entire front row of desks, happily piling their supplies and waiting eagerly for the rest of the classmates. The rest of the Gryffindors filed in slowly, looking hesitantly in Severus' direction, with the exception of those who had gotten to know the brighter side of the potions Master's nature the previous year.

"Settle down," Severus said as the last of the students were seated and pulled out their things, "I wish to speak to you before we begin."

There was an immediate quiet. These students knew better than to interrupt him from speaking, and Severus took it as compliment to his methods of commanding respect.

"You have all had five different teachers so far in this subject, ranging from excellent to abysmal in their methods." Most had not caught the slight compliment that Severus had paid to Lupin, but none made any noise if they had caught it, "Given the confusion I am, however, pleased that so many student have been able to pass their O.W.L. in this subject regardless. I will be even more pleased when I see you all fly through the N.E.W.T. work that I will give to you, which will truly test your skills in this class."

Setting off around the parameter of the room, Severus felt every eye on him, "The Dark Arts…" he began slowly, "are many varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting against them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. What you face, is that which is unfixed, mutating, and ever present."

"Your defenses," he continued, louder and catching several students by surprise, "must therefore be just as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to protect yourselves from."

Returning to the front of the room, Severus turned back to the class and gave them his most serious and business-like face, "We shall begin with relearning all your previous spells in this class, nonverbally. What are the advantages of nonverbal spells?"

To no surprise, Miss Granger, Harry, and Faykan all raised their hands. Severus waited however, several moments for any others to raise their hands but none did.

"Mr. Potter."

"Well, if you're not shouting out an incantation, your opponent won't know what spell your casting, sir." Harry replied.

"Correct, five points to Gryffindor." Severus said, shocking most of the class before continuing on, "being able to nonverbally cast gives you a split second advantage and an element of surprise over your opponent. However, not all wizards can do this, as it is a matter of concentration and mind power which some simply… lack…"

Severus then divided them all into pairs, purposely splitting Faykan, Harry, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger among the rest of the students. Faykan he specifically set with Longbottom, as the boy still was heavily dependent on others for confidence.

Naturally Miss Granger was the first to succeed, her silent stinging hex hitting Mr. Finnegan hard in the chest. Severus awarded her twenty points, which put the rest of the class to a dead stop for several seconds. But they soon resumed their practices, and before the end of the lesson, nearly everyone had managed to cast a spell silently at least once.

Severus called their attention before the students filed out, "Before you all leave," he said, smirking slightly, "I wish to announce the recommencement of the Defence club known as Dumbledore's Army." Harry's eyes widened at the announcement, and wider still when there was excited muttering all around from the other students.

"The Headmaster," Severus continued, "has approved this club, and wishes to supervise it personally, with myself as an additional consultant. The leader, however, will be Harry Potter, and is available to the school at large. You will find the D.A. listed with all other clubs on your house notice board for sign up. That is all…"

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Faykan turned as Jack Sloper, one of the previous year's Gryffindor beaters, approached, carrying a roll of parchment.

"For you," he said, handing it to Harry, "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

Harry was not thinking about Quidditch however, as he immediately recognized the thin, slanting handwriting of Professor Dumbledore on the parchment. Distractedly, he said, "I'm, uh… not sure yet. I'll let you know…" and with that he hurried off down the corridor, not listening to Sloper's response.

Unrolling the Parchment, he Faykan, Hermione and Ron read:

'_Dear Harry_

_I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.'_

"Acid Pops must be the password for his office, right?" Ron asked, and Faykan nodded in response. They didn't speak of the note again until they were safely in the Room of Requirement for their break period, when Hermione turned to Faykan.

"What do you think Dumbledore will want to talk about?" she asked, at which Faykan frowned.

"Not completely sure, he was rather secretive about it when we discussed if he could have these meetings, said he wanted to confirm his suspicions before involving Harry or myself first…"

Ron piped up, speculating on what Professor Dumbledore would teach them, powerful jinxes or the like, and Hermione countered with how those types were illegal and how it was more likely for Harry to be learning more advanced Defensive magic instead. As they argued, Harry started their Defense homework, and Faykan stared off into space, clearly pondering matters in his own way that Harry had become so familiar with over many years.

_~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~_

Draco didn't see the Gryffindors again until their first N.E.W.T. double potions class that afternoon. He arrived in the corridor to Severus' old classroom just in time to see that there were only thirteen students progressing to the Potions N.E.W.T. including himself. Harry, Ron, Faykan and Hermione were talking to the Hufflepuff Macmillan, who Draco found rather pompous and annoying, but he joined them anyway.

Before the Gryffindors could fill him in on how their day had been, the dungeon door opened, and Professor Slughorn waved them inside. Draco noted immediately the overly enthusiastic welcome their new Potions Master gave to Harry, Faykan, and Blaise Zabini as they filed in.

Draco feared that Professor Slughorn would drastically change his godfather's classroom, but his somewhat childish fears were put to rest quickly when he saw the room completely unchanged. The only difference was the presence of potion fumes and vapour wafting from four large bubbling cauldrons.

Draco joined the four Gryffindors at one of the large tables, while Blaise went with the other three Slytherin sixth and seventh year students, and the remaining four Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff to the last table. Draco recognized the potion on their table immediately: Amortentia, the powerful love potion.

The smells reminded Draco simultaneously of Turkish delight, the wood-like smell of a brookstick, and some flowery scent that Draco had a hard time placing. He found that he was breathing far slower than normal, and the potion seemed to be making him far more relaxed than he ought to be. Draco looked around the table. Ron and Hermione seemed to be feeling much the same way, while Faykan and Harry were mostly unaffected.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion Making." There was a short rustling as everyone pulled out their materials.

The stout Potions master then proceeded to showcase the three potions he had prepared for them, so they could have an idea what sort of potions they would be brewing. Hermione quickly identified that the clear, water-like one on the table with Blaise was Veritaserum, the truth potion. Draco was correct that the one on their table was Amortentia, and Harry pointed out that the final mud colored potion was Polyjuice Potion, which when announced as correct all the members of Draco's table smirked at each other, remembering their adventures in second year regarding that particular brew.

Slughorn was clearly impressed with their knowledge, with the way he kept smiling when he looked in their direction as he set out their task, and prize. Holding the tiny flask that was on the teacher's desk, he announced that it was Felix Felicis, also known as liquid luck. It was to be awarded to the student who produced the best draft of living death in the remaining class period.

Draco caught Faykan, Harry and Hermione's eyes. They were all set steely with determination. Ron's eyes widened, becoming completely aware of the friendly contest about to begin between his four friends, also knowing that he himself was outclassed in potions compared to the four of them.

"No holds barred?" Faykan asked smirking, and the others argued that he had to operate under a severe handicap so they actually had a chance to beat him, having all seen his prestigious ability to multitask through magic that none of them could hope to compete with. "Fine, fine, standard potioneering then…" he acquiesced, sulking slightly.

On the call from Slughorn of "Off you go…" they set off with a flourish.


End file.
